Shakespeare, Kenneth Branagh's Hamlet - Free Sample Essay Example

This example Shakespearean film analysis paper was the final project for a college junior Shakespeare course. This sample final project examines critical writing about Kenneth Branagh's Hamlet (1997), a four hour long epic. The essay examines how various critics have analyzed the film, from Freudians who think Branagh's film fails to repress the play's sexual tension, to Shakespeareans who like how the political elements have been kept in the movie. It uses extensive quotations to suggest why Branagh's film is among the greatest Shakespearean films ever made. This would be an excellent reference for someone who wants to write a critical summary of an acclaimed film.

What Is This Quintessence of Film? - A Critical Summary of Kenneth Branagh's Hamlet

In 1996, Kenneth Branagh unveiled Hamlet, a sprawling, four hour film that incorporated the complete text of Shakespeare's tragedy - a feat few thought possible. Branagh, who directed and played Hamlet, was accompanied by acclaimed actors like Derek Jacobi, Charlton Heston, Kate Winslet and Billy Crystal. While the movie only made $4 million in the United States, it was a critical success. Rottentomatoes.com, a website which tracks movie reviews, shows that 94% of film critics praised Hamlet. But one can get a greater understanding of the film by looking at what essayists and Shakespeareans have said about it. A summary of the literature reveals that Branagh's version, compared to previous Hamlets, is unique because the director makes three distinct choices: the inclusion of Fortinbras, the extensive use of visual details to extend the story and the "removal" of Hamlet's Oedipus complex.

Previous film versions of Hamlet, including Laurence Olivier's 1948 Oscar-winning production, do not include young Fortinbras and his campaign. But Branagh's version not only features the Norwegian general but restores the political and military subtexts of the play. Mark Thornton Burnett, writing for Literature/Film Quarterly in 1997, points out how Denmark is "constructed as a military state" (1). Burnett observes that Hamlet strides past an arsenal before encountering the ghost, and several displays of fencing practice foreshadow the movie's tragic end. In addition, Burnett notes that Denmark's power "is dependent upon the cooperation of a gallery of soldierly underlings--Rosencrantz (Timothy Spall) and Guildenstern (Reece Dinsdale) wear regimental sashes; guards invade Ophelia's chamber; and the grave digger (Billy Crystal) arranges skulls side-by-side with all the precision of a campaigning general" (Burnett 1). The advance of Fortinbras' army also adds a layer of suspense to the film. The audience is reminded of his approach through montage scenes which cut between his invasion plans and the "unfolding wrangles at Elsinore" (Burnett 1). But Denmark is not unaware of the Norwegian's push - newspaper headlines announce his movements. Yet the country, caught up in political intrigue, does not act. "As the film progresses, it would seem as if there is every justification for the nervousness of the sentry who patrols the castle's gates," Burnett says (Burnett 1).

Besides impacting the plot, other critics say that adding Fortinbras gives Hamlet some historical context for modern viewers and even affects the portrayal of the titular character. Samuel Crowl, in The Films of Kenneth Branagh says the use of Britain's Blenheim Palace as Elsinore "anchors Branagh's Hamlet in a European aristocratic world about to implode." Here, "Branagh is embedding his Hamlet in the collapse of Europe as it stumbled into World War I" where Fortinbras is Kaiser Wilhelm, breaking away from the monarchies ruled by Queen Victoria's progeny (Crowl 133). Kenneth Sprague Rothwell's A History of Shakespeare on Screen takes the historical comparison even further. Rothwell says the "angry, surly Fortinbras," who yells at his officers while stabbing maps, is "Adolf Hitler invading Poland to Hamlet's Neville Chamberlain" (Rothwell 245). Rothwell notes that portraying Fortinbras this way gives the film an odd contradiction: Hamlet describes the Norwegian as a "delicate" Prince, yet "Branagh's Hamlet, not Sewell's Fortinbras, turns out to be the "delicate and tender one." Crowl would disagree though, pointing out how military training has shaped Hamlet. "In keeping with his historical context, Branagh conceives of his Hamlet as a soldier," Crowl writes, citing Hamlet's attire, interest in fencing and even his formal manners as a sign that he is a "military prince" (Crowl 133). Burnett would agree with Crowl's assessment, as he points out that "Hamlet is given a soldier's funeral, a move which identifies him with Fortinbras," the man who ultimately becomes ruler of Denmark (Burnett 3).

Besides adding Fortinbras' march, Branagh's use of a rich, bright setting differentiates his version from past productions. Kenneth Sprague Rothwell points out how this Elsinore is not a dark, sparsely decorated palace like the "ominous set of Laurence Olivier." Instead, it teems with "Technicolor fantasies:"

Its grand chandeliers and balconies and mirrored walls serve as the backdrop for bevies of elegant women in flattering hour-glass gowns, and platoons of handsome men in comic opera uniforms. The ladies look as if they will momentarily join their dashing men for a Strauss waltz on the checkered ballroom floor, if the men have not gone for for a rousing songfest at the beer garden, or maybe a little gentlemanly fencing at the dueling society (Rothwell 245).
 
The highlight of this setting is the palace's hall of mirrors, which add to the grandeur of Elsinore, but also foreshadow "that all that glitters may not be gold" (Rothwell 245). Rothwell goes on to say that the mirrors may beautify Elsinore, but hide dark secrets. Indeed, something is rotten in the state of Denmark and "that which 'seems' conceals that which 'is'" (Rothwell 245). Russell Jackson in The Cambridge Companion to Shakespeare on Film says one can see the difference between the glittering Elsinore and the court's murky intrigue early in the film. While this palace "appears open, rich and inviting as Derek Jacobi's vigorous, attractive Claudius and his bride . . . sweep down the great hall through lines of applauding courtiers" the camera's focus on Hamlet, clad in black, shows a figure who will "expose the black and grained spots which lie just beneath the surface of this lavish world" (Jackson 227).

Just as he transformed Elsinore, Branagh also re-imagines certain scenes which give Hamlet more depth. Mark Thornton Burnett mentions Branagh's interpretation of Ophelia's meeting with Polonius after she meets a crazy-acting Hamlet (whose antics are not shown onscreen). Burnett points out how Ophelia lies on Polonius' bed, just previously occupied by a prostitute. "It is implied that Ophelia has been abused by Hamlet and will be prostituted by her brothel-frequenting father," Burnett writes (Burnett 1). He also points out how the film concentrates some scenes in specific locations, like the palace chapel. Early in Hamlet, Polonius forces Ophelia into the chapel to confess the depth of her relationship with the prince. Likewise a more "unsettling" use of the chapel occurs when Claudius hides there to confess his sins. Yet he is secretly confessing to Hamlet, who "forces his knife through the grill, becoming an unpunctual but unconsoling father confessor" (Burnett 2). Placing these scenes in the same location allows Branagh to push "to their furthest extent the areas of overlap between visual messages and verbal utterances" (Burnett 2).

But while the critics praise these altered scenes, they do have some gripes. According to Burnett, the film's weak points come when Branagh includes scenes which reduce the mystery present in the play and take away the audience's ability to form a different interpretation (Burnett 2). Burnett argues that flashbacks of Ophelia and Hamlet having sex and Claudius undoing Gertrude's bodice give the film a coherent narrative, but substitute "a one-dimensional reading for irresolution and elusive uncertainty." Kenneth Rothwell points out that some extra scenes make the plot contradictory - it seems incredible that King Hamlet would sleep outside during the winter and that Ophelia could commit suicide while "assembling 'fantastic garlands' of 'crow flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples'" (Rothwell 246). Kathleen Lundeen, writing in a 1999 edition of Film Criticism has the harshest attack on Branagh's visuals. She argues that "language is a surprising casualty" in the film because of the actors' frequent use of pantomime, which takes away from the effect of the speeches. Lundeen argues that audiences are more interested in the actor's facial expressions than the spoken word and that Shakespeare's language is "reduced to a voiceover" because the speeches are often delivered rapidly (Lundeen 3).

Despite these concerns, the critics - perhaps begrudgingly - admit that Branagh navigates around these problems. Lundeen acknowledges "Branagh's instincts were probably good. While an audience may be transfixed by an actor's long speech on a stage, it may get restless when watching the same speech on the silver screen" (Lundeen 3). As for Rothwell's point about Ophelia, he notes Branagh avoids showing the death and "has Gertrude deliver her famous aria-like description without visual aids, which Julie Christie admirably accomplishes" (Rothwell 246).

Branagh also chooses to omit any sexual tension between Hamlet and Gertrude, a departure from previous versions. Some fans were delighted with the change. Virginia Leong, who runs one of the largest Hamlet fan websites, writes, "For once, Hamlet does not have an Oedipus complex" (Leong 1). Indeed, Samuel Crowl points out how "Branagh's Hamlet is much more intent on lecturing [Gertrude] about her sins than on acting out his repressed Oedipal desires." This Hamlet "never completely surrenders to his internal, psychological chaos" (Crowl 146). While Crowl appreciates Branagh's choice, he does not think the Oedipus complex has been removed from the film - only redirected. For Crowl, the film "recasts the Freudian family romance" where the drama now centers on father, son and stepfather (Crowl 146). Hamlet is caught between two fathers, a vengeful ghost, and a cunning but seeming-virtuous king who bears an eerie resemblance to himself. "Branagh is certainly aware that his blonde Hamlet bears an uncanny physical resemblance to Jacobi's Claudius, while it is Rufus Sewell's swarthy Fortinbras who seems more the son of old Hamlet," Crowl says. Hamlet is confused by Claudius - he wants to hate him - yet Jacobi's polite character forces Hamlet to confront his own violent feelings. When this happens, "Hamlet's hatred of Claudius is deflected back into himself and internalized." The end result is that Hamlet's anger "never gets released at its true objects - the father who won't stay dead and the stepfather who refuses to carouse - but only at their substitutes: Ophelia and Gertrude" (Crowl 147).

Courtney Lehmann and Lisa Starks seem to take Branagh's disavowal of the Oedipus complex as a challenge. Their article "Making Mother Matter: Repression, Revision, and the Stakes of 'Reading Psychoanalysis Into' Kenneth Branagh's Hamlet" points out that Branagh goes to great lengths to prevent a psychoanalytical reading of Hamlet and Gertrude's relationship. First, the director himself made sure the play was "sanitized and allegedly 'Oedipal free,' [by avoiding] any representations of non-normative sexual desire, repressing the sexualized maternal body with a vengeance" (Lehmann, Starks 1). The two speak not on a bed, but a couch. (Lehmann, Starks, 7). Likewise, Hamlet is shown having sex with Ophelia, in order to portray "the illusion of a serious, committed relationship" between the two (Lehmann, Starks 3). Yet they point out that the play has always been sexually charged - "Hamlet's own disgust toward the body and sexual behavior, coupled with Ophelia's erotically-charged songs, did not suddenly become 'about' sexuality after Freud" they write (Lehmann, Starks 2). While Branagh removes tension between Gertrude and Hamlet, the authors agree with Crowl - the sexual undercurrent of the play turns towards Jacobi's Claudius (Lehmann, Starks 9). Indeed, the two point out how Branagh resembles Claudius more than other members of the court. Their costumes are especially a giveaway:

Claudius and Hamlet both wear black, plain, and form-fitting outfits which they occupy with the stiff posture of bowling pins, quite unlike the relaxed poses, softer hues, and more lavish designs bedecking the other members of the vaguely nineteenth-century court. These pale, svelte, and decidedly phallic images of Claudius and Hamlet could not be further removed from the image of Old Hamlet, whose peppery hair, incandescent eyes, gargantuan physique, and sulfurous breath make a grotesque spectacle of Shakespeare's more (sym)pathetic Ghost. (Lehmann, Starks 7).
 
But Lehmann and Starks suggest that Hamlet and Claudius look alike not simply because of an Oedipal desire on Hamlet's part, but because of Branagh's unconscious desires. By creating a film longer and more magnificent than ones before it, Branagh seeks to supplant past Hamlet-actors, including Jacobi. "At one level, their extraordinary physical resemblance in the film suggests that Branagh identifies with Jacobi in imaginary terms as his 'ideal ego,' the authors say. Because Branagh had admired Jacobi since he was a boy, placing Jacobi in the role of Claudius would put Branagh's Hamlet "in a symbolic position to 'kill' this father-figure according to the dictates of the play." Thus, when Hamlet does kill Claudius, Branagh supplants "his life-long experience of transferential desire for Jacobi," while succeeding him "as the 'subject presumed to know' Hamlet." For the authors, this moment makes Branagh's film "the most Oedipal filmed Hamlet of all time" (Lehmann, Starks 7).

While casual observers may disagree with Lehmann and Starks, their argument reveals how Branagh's film has inspired a rich debate among critics. Hamlet becomes more than just a film - it is a universe within itself. Mark Burnett acknowledges that "the film is too complex to be straight jacketed within a simple allegory" (Burnett 3). How then can one describe Branagh's masterpiece, which brings the play to life while adding limitless levels of interpretation? In a word - epic.
 

Works Cited