Hamlet Reconstructed

Last Wednesday I went up to the Town Hall Theater for a thoroughly captivating production of Hamlet as conceived by 3 elementary schools working in collaboration. Mary Hogan Elementary got Acts I, III, and V, while Leicester Central got Act II and Shoreham Elementary got Act IV. Each of the 24 scenes was presented by a different group of students thus providing the opportunity for every 12-year-old in 3 towns to have their moment in the spotlight.
It would have been a great advantage to have come with a clear idea of the story line. We were not far into the first act before I really wished I had read the play more recently than high school, as only about 1 in four of the players could be clearly understood. Among these were a couple of players who demonstrated a striking theatrical talent in their 45 second appearance before the footlights. Another 1 in four was completely incomprehensible. The rest scattered their lines like confetti in a snapping breeze and only if you were paying close attention could you hope to snatch some of the words out of the air. Not that understanding the lines was of primary importance since the fun lay in the overall flavor of the production.
The continuity was supplied by the costumes. Hamlet, for example, was provided with a sort of loose-fitting black velvet jacket with brass buttons. This garment was worn by each of the 18 Hamlets who appeared during the play and who were clearly chosen for their particular scene by some criterion independent of size. The smallest of the Hamlets looked like a comic strip sorcerer with the trailing sleeves getting tangled in the props and the hem nearly dragging on the floor, while the largest Hamlet wore it like a raggedy castoff long outgrown.
Many of the costume swaps took place tastefully offstage, but from time to time Hamlet or Horatio or whoever would freeze in place, dagger held high or deer-in-the-headlights stare, while his replacement jogged in from somewhere, snatched the clothes off his back and assumed the same dramatic stance while the original child faded off stage.
Claudius, the fratricidal king, was distinguished by a flowing green cape with gold spangles that was cunningly constructed so that any motion would cause it to balloon like a spinnaker sail. Nine of the ten Claudiuses reveled in this grand effect and swept expansively on and off stage followed by their retinue of queens and courtiers tripping on their own hems and sleeves and tassles like the royal barge pursued by geese. The tenth Claudius was clearly underrehearsed and spent much of his scene first getting himself wound up snugly in all that yardage and then thrashing his way out of it like a turtle hatching.
None of the nine Gertrudes had a clear understanding of or a good fit for their drapey gown or the odd little headpiece (I think "hat" gives it more credit than it deserves) which signaled her presence. One little moppet, in fact, looked more like a clothesline than a queen of the realm.
The 8 Rosencrantz-and-Gildensterns – 4 of each – were done up in matching vests and straw boaters and came and went as a soft shoe routine, their perfidies and sorry end enacted with lighthearted flourish.
There was one memorable scene where a be-draped young thing, fidgeting with anxiety like many of her fellows, had arrived at center stage for her scene with Hamlet. Looking nervously around at the conspicuous absence of Hamlet, she bravely started speaking her lines anyway, arriving at last at a place where Hamlet was supposed to say something. After a few beats and he was still absent she shouted crossly, "Hamlet, get out here!" in a voice that carried clear back to the cheap seats and out the door. Soon there was the patter of little feet and Hamlet tumbled onto the stage struggling with a sleeve of the Hamlet jacket.
Finally after much clashing of swords, sharp words mumbled toward the back of the stage, the arrival and departure of various unidentified persons, and the histrionic death of pretty well everybody, the lights dimmed and the corpses fled for the wings.
Following a brief uncertain silence there was loud applause that gradually swelled to thunderous as the parents in the audience spotted their offspring filing onto the stage. And then, of course, as is obligatory in the State of Vermont no matter how good or bad the performance, we all rose to our feet. There were 109 elementary school students listed in the program from named characters like Hamlet and Gildenstern to unspecified persons such as "Grave diggers" and "Hamlet's Thoughts." All of them dutifully emerged from the wings along with the numerous teachers and stage managers and technical directors resulting finally in a mob the like of which that poor old stage had never before sustained.
What gave this production such a high entertainment value was its sheer unpredictability. Even a detailed knowledge of the original play would offer no hint as to the nature or character of the next scene, each one a unique little surprise. I am already wondering what they will undertake for next year. I am not sure Waiting for Godot would be suitable, but it would be fun watching all the costume switches.