HAMLET HASSELHOFF

To be honest, I shocked myself by preferring the Gibson version of Hamlet over the Olivier and Branaugh ones.  The girls in my class swooned over the piece, prior to its showing, in a way that revealed their intent on watching the piece.  "It's so well acted," some clucked; of course, guys in junior high think that "Baywatch" and "Dumb and Dumber" are classic that way, too.  Thus, I was shocked to find that Mr. Gibson outplayed his counterparts (thanks to his directors).

The directors and producers of the Gibson version of Hamlet sought the symbolism of real life.  Avoiding open interpretive stretches, the middle Hamlet goat gruff could be enjoyed by both the sophisticated drama connoisseur and the untrained college junior eye—no circus mirrors to decipher, no cranium drillings to be explained, just a guy looking through catacombs trying figure out if an enigmatic life is better than suicide.  Yes, he walks to and from the light, and he is wearing black and no knife, but there is merit in not crafting coincidences into conspiracies.

Instead of Gibson ascending twisted stair towers to some towering psychological precipice or to a ballroom laced with mirrors, he descends into the most advantageous site for suicidal soliloquy: a crypt.  Gibson models the typical garb for a late-medieval knight, much preferred to the leotards of the other two plays (which may signify their remorse over not being able to make Hamlet a ballet).  The skylighting of the crypt perfects the pensive mood, maintaining a natural light source.  The absence of background music contributes to the believability of the scene as well; for then you can hear Gibson's steps, while he can hear nothing but his thoughts.

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