Hamlet, The End Of A Childhood

This play should set an example for all those who think that they can mess with Shakespeare: should you try, it is more than likely that you will fail. In this adaptation, Hamlet is no longer a vacillating Prince, but a stroppy tween. Claudius and Gertrude are pillows, Ophelia is a hand-held fan, and Horatio a teddy bear. And they all exist as figments of young Hamlet’s imagination.

The action takes place entirely in said tween’s bedroom, amidst his vast array of toys. The only indication of the world outside is several voice-over interruptions from his newly remarried mother, imploring him to try to accept his new "reality". For the most part, Hamlet's journey is entirely imaginary – and very lengthy.

To Thomas Marceul’s credit, he is a talented performer, and conveys childhood confusion and escapism with creativity and understanding. But Ophelia’s ornate and tender words are not written to be exaggerated in a child’s squeaky voice, and the cathartic and deeply tragic finale is rendered entirely ridiculous with the aftermath of the the "blood bath" being almost, and unintentionally, comical.

Neither is the show without its technical flaws. Although it is a strong solo-performance, it is in French, and the supertitles are located so that it is impossible to watch the action on stage and read translation at the same time. 

Although the play is a bold attempt to integrate an epic tragedy with very personal childhood grief, it fails to represent the nuances and ineffable melancholy of Shakespeare's unadulterated text.