The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark starts on a grim and uncertain note. The play’s first words, spoken on the battlements of Elsinore Castle, are “Who’s there?”, and a Danish soldier whose watch is ending says "For this relief much thanks" because he is so glad to be able to step away from this cold and daunting duty station– you might say he is relieved to be relieved.
And the play only gets grimmer and more uncertain from there. There have been sightings of a ghostly apparition along the battlements of the royal Danish castle at Helsingør – alright, “Elsinore.” Reports that the ghost resembles the kingdom’s recently deceased ruler, King Hamlet, have brought Hamlet's friend and confidant Horatio to the battlements of the castle; and amid a kingdom-wide atmosphere of fear and foreboding, Horatio expresses anxiety that the ghostly sightings may be "prologue to the omen coming on". The ghost appears, but will not speak to Horatio; and when "the morn, in russet mantle clad", drives away the night-bound ghost, Horatio decides that he and the guards must tell young Prince Hamlet what they have seen.
Prince Hamlet meanwhile has troubles of his own, even before he hears any reports about a ghost who looks like his father. His uncle, Claudius, has taken over the kingship of Denmark, and has married Hamlet's mother Gertrude, all within a very short time after King Hamlet's death. It is for this reason that Hamlet bitterly describes his uncle-turned-stepfather Claudius as "A little more than kin and less than kind", and just as bitterly denounces Gertrude's hasty marriage to her dead husband's brother: "Frailty, thy name is woman!"
Hamlet, who hitherto has seen his dead father only "In my mind's eye", goes with Horatio to witness the ghost's night-time perambulations, and indeed sees the ghost that Horatio has described as bearing "A countenance more in sorrow than in anger." Only to Prince Hamlet will the ghost of King Hamlet tell the truth: he was killed by his own brother, Claudius. By this Cain-and-Abel-style act of murder - "Murder most foul, as in the best it is" - Claudius inherited not only the throne of Denmark but also the marriage-bed of King Hamlet’s widow Gertrude. Claudius committed murder out of lust for power and lust for his brother's wife: it is a plot straight out of Game of Thrones, and one that would have appealed strongly to a politically savvy audience like Shakespeare’s. The ghost tells Prince Hamlet to seek revenge against Claudius, but not to act against Gertrude: "Leave her to heaven".
Hamlet is, understandably, angered by what the ghost has told him, saying of Claudius that "one may smile, and smile, and be a villain." Yet he keeps the ghost's secret, telling Horatio only that "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,/Than are dreamt of in your philosophy", and adding what Horatio already knows -- that "The time is out of joint." By this point, viewers or readers of the play are quite likely to agree with the Danish soldier Marcellus that "Something is rotten in the state of Denmark."
But in terms of plot, there’s more – much more – for this is a singularly plot-heavy play. Hamlet, a young man (the play makes clear at one point that he’s 30 years old), is in love with Ophelia, the daughter of Polonius, counselor to King Claudius. Ophelia seems aware that she is being subjected by her father Polonius and brother Laertes to a sexual double standard; only she faces constant family scrutiny over whether she might be walking "the primrose path of dalliance". Polonius, when he's not busy giving his departing son Laertes old saws of advice like "This above all: to thine own self be true", worries that Hamlet intends to seduce and abandon and “ruin” Ophelia. Polonius orders Ophelia not to see Hamlet anymore, and Ophelia, with some protest, obeys.
With his world crumbling around him, Hamlet declared that he “shall think it meet/To put an antic disposition on”; in other words, he will pretend to be insane so that he can conduct an investigation of the ghost’s accusation against Claudius. His pretense of insanity has given rise to what literary scholars call the “Hamlet problem”: when is Hamlet truly insane, and when is he simply pretending? Much critical ink has been spilled over that question for almost 400 years, and I don’t think we’ll get any closer to an answer in the next 400.
Therefore, let us return to the elements of Hamlet’s unhappy situation that we can all agree on. He is surrounded by self-interested courtiers who care only about the prospects for their own advancement; his old school-fellows Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are only too happy to spy on him for Claudius, and Polonius is ready to push Ophelia at Hamlet if the result might be a royal match and a prince for a son-in-law. The only person Hamlet can trust is his best friend Horatio, a fellow University of Wittenberg student and devotee of Stoic philosophy whom Hamlet praises for his even-tempered qualities, calling Horatio “One in suffering all who suffers nothing;/A man who fortune’s buffets and rewards/Has ta’en with equal thanks.” Horatio will serve as the choral figure and moral center of the play.
I am always saddened by those readings of Hamlet in which the Prince of Denmark’s only problem is that he is afflicted with the tragic flaw of indecisiveness. Sir Laurence Olivier’s otherwise excellent 1948 film version of Hamlet, filmed on location at Helsingør/Elsinore Castle, almost loses me at the beginning when Olivier, in a breathy voice-over, says, “This is the tragedy of a man who could not make up his mind.” A viewer at the film’s London premiere, hearing those words, is said to have remarked, “Oh, so that’s what it’s all about.”
The truth, unsurprisingly, is more complex. If anything, Hamlet isn’t indecisive enough. As long as he is hesitating, mulling over his problem, using logic and reason rather than physical force, things go rather well for Hamlet – as when he stages for Claudius a play that re-enacts the circumstances of King Hamlet’s murder, causing the murderous Claudius to feel grief and fear, and even to consider confessing his foul crime. It is when Hamlet decides to use violence, lashing out with his sword from behind a wall tapestry to stab the man he thinks is Claudius, that a terrible chain of events is set in motion.
Through his unintentional killing of Polonius, Hamlet drives Ophelia, the love of his life, to madness and death under circumstances that suggest suicide. Hamlet makes an enemy of Laertes, the son of Polonius – an honourable man who under ordinary circumstances would have had no hostility toward Hamlet, but who, under the present circumstances, falls all too easily under Claudius’ influence. And with Claudius fully aware of Hamlet’s enmity, the play, hitherto gradual in its pace, moves swiftly toward a bloody conclusion.
So - we have here a complex and messy plot, with lots of blood and violence and revenge and death. The same could be said of many plays of that time, by other writers as well as by Shakespeare. Why, then, does Hamlet stand forth as such a central text in Western literature and culture? In part, I think it may be because of the sheer beauty of the language. We are all familiar with Hamlet’s Third Soliloquy (“To be or not to be, that is the question…”); but its status as the Third Soliloquy speaks to the fact that, earlier in the play, Hamlet has two more soliloquies that are just as memorable.
The other distinguishing characteristic of Hamlet among Shakespeare’s great tragedies, for me, is that it is the most modern in terms of an understandable character making understandable moral choices, whether good or bad. Macbeth is a thoroughly dislikable traitor, regicide, and general murderer through most of his play; we read Macbeth to see fate get its way, with the prophecy of the witches fulfilled. King Lear – giving away his kingdom to two daughters and disinheriting a third, all over who’s willing to flatter him the most – acts more like a character from a fairy tale than like a person of the modern world. Othello commands sympathy in many respects, but his cruelty toward an innocent and helpless woman distances us from him.
Hamlet, by contrast, could live among us. He is a thoughtful individual who does not particularly want to be involved in games of thrones; had King Hamlet lived, Prince Hamlet would have inherited the throne of Denmark in time, but the prince seems to be in no hurry about it. I think he’d rather be back at the University of Wittenberg, discussing philosophy with Horatio and writing love letters to Ophelia. Of all the heroes of Shakespeare’s tragedies, he is the most relatable and understandable.
The real tragedy of Hamlet, to my mind, is that in fighting Claudius, he, after a fashion, becomes Claudius. There is no question that Claudius deserves to be held accountable for his treasonous and murderous crimes. But in seeking revenge against the guilty Claudius, Hamlet causes, in one way or another, the deaths of six other characters -- none of whom had anything to do with Claudius’ murder of King Hamlet, four of whom Prince Hamlet would have wanted to live. Revenge in Shakespeare’s plays tends to be like those drive-by shootings that people liked to talk about back in the 1980’s: you might get your enemy, yes, but the chances are good that you’ll end up killing innocent people in the process.
This brief review does not begin to do justice to the magnificent complexity that is Hamlet. It may be the most important play in the history of the literature of the Western world. I have read Hamlet dozens of times – including once on a trip to Denmark, when I was able to stand on the battlements of Elsinore Castle and enjoy Hamlet’s view of the cold northern seas. Hamlet has much to do with who we are today, and you should want to spend some time hearing what he has to say.