I like the Bacchanals. I greatly enjoyed their Dream, Twelfth Night and I.D. and, though I didn’t see their previous Hamlet, I was really looking forward to the new Hamlet – especially after reading the previous reviews on this site.

There was much to praise and enjoy in the production on the floor of the Muritai School Hall at Eastbourne on Thursday.

As always the characteristic energy and pace was there and it carried a good-sized audience through three hours of gripping performance.

The intimate traverse staging, soliloquies spoken directly to the audience, simple but effective use of a few props and pieces of staging and the right costumes all brought an immediacy and connection to this production.

From the start this production established a strong sense of an uneasy Denmark and the contrast between drama and comedy was well-captured. The final fight scene was excellently done as was the often-cut last scene with Horatio and Fortinbras.

The scenes flowed fluidly from one to the next, beautifully tied together and enhanced by music (played on the guitar by director David Laurence’s alter ego, Walter Plinge), song (notably by Erin Banks) and simply created sound effects.

This troupe, like the travelling players in the script, turn up in a village (or should that be a hamlet), and, making a virtue of their theatricality, create their magic right in front of our faces.

So what’s the ‘but’?

Well, for me, Simon Vincent’s Hamlet disappointed. He shouted too much. I know he can get angry – but, despite what he said when alone to the audience, I didn’t get to learn much else about him. He was full of outward energy and action – but I didn’t get a sense of what was happening inside or why he was slow to act. And that lack of an internal picture is a bit of a problem for one of the first and greatest examples of a character’s personality being bigger than the play of which they are part.

Jean Copland’s Gertrude didn’t convince as mother, lover or wife – and the scene between Hamlet and his mother just didn’t work. Some characters at times dropped into the common but disconcerting Bacchanalian habit of breathlessly racing through difficult lines and patches – Laertes (Alex Greig), Claudius (Phil Peleton), and Hamlet himself were all guilty of that. I’d rather these sections were heavily cut than made into almost an unintelligible background on which the actors paint a sometimes unrelated mood.

However, unlike the other David Lawrence Shakespeare plays I have seen, this production was shorter by perhaps an hour than it would have been without cuts.  I would cut more and reinstate a few other parts.

In particular the second half could be trimmed of the much of the explanations about Rosencranz and Gildenstern’s end in England – and so too could the long interchange between Claudius and Laertes before the fight.

Hamlet’s advice to the actors was cut. A pity: some of tonight’s actors could have learned from the advice not to ‘split the ears of the groundlings’ or ‘in the very torrent of passion … to acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness.’

Having given my reservations I return to this production’s strengths. Erin Banks as a modern Ophelia was superb – and she has a lovely singing voice as well. Her mad scenes were very strong.

I loved Alex Greig and Salesi Le’ota’s double-act as Rosencranz as Gildenstern. Osric’s (Jack O’Donnell) short scene worked well.  Phil Grieve’s rhetoric as player king was wonderful – particularly in his earlier Hecuba speech.

And, without a doubt John Smythe excelled both as Polonius and the gravedigger – getting a lovely and lovable mix of humour and humanity into both parts.

I enjoyed the evening and can’t wait for the Bacchanals next offering.

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The Bacchanals are indeed like the travelling players who come to Elsinor (though far better actors it must be said), as they take this free production of Hamlet out and about Wellington. Don’t let the fact it’s free fool you into thinking its not of a professional standard – it most certainly is, indeed, it’s one of the most engaging productions seen in the Capital this year.

David Lawrence has such a great feeling for the Bard’s work, he keeps the setting basic (one curtain, two chairs) so the audience focus is entirely on the actors. They are terrific, a true Shakespearian ensemble, the comic roles are hilarious (John Smythe’s dual act as the officious Polonius and wisecracking gravedigger is to die for, and Phil Grieve’s Player King is a delight), and the tragedy is heartfelt and heartbreaking.

Simon Vincent is the latest brave young actor to dare perform Hamlet, not only a feat of memory but it’s almost impossible to nail it – indecision, madness, guilt, cruelty which goes far beyond being, as he says, cruel to be kind.

Vincent’s Hamlet is perhaps a little too tearfully emotional from our first encounter with him, he stays at that heightened pitch for most of the play rather than building to it.  But it is a powerful and moving performance, most notably his scenes with Ophelia.  The “get thee to a nunnery” scene is beautifully done. Even more exquisite is where Hamlet delivers his “To be or not to be” soliloquy not to the audience but looking deep into the eyes of the woman he loves.

Erin Banks is a revelation as Ophelia, playing her as a smart, strong, independent thinking woman who really would have been the perfect partner for Hamlet if, like Romeo and Juliet, their stars were not crossed.

So raise your goblets and toast The Bacchanals: Ginny Spackman, Salesi Le’ota, Jonny Potts, James Stewart, Phil Peleton, Jean Copland, Cornelius, John Smythe, Alex Greig, Erin Banks, Simon Vincent, Phil Grieve, Jack O’Donnell, ‘Walter Plinge’ and David Lawrence.

(For the full tour schedule, click on the production details above.)

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The Bacchanals’ first assault on Hamlet a few years ago had the audience wandering all over Elsinore as it followed the action from room to room, upstairs and downstairs. Their latest version, which I caught up with at the Brooklyn Community Centre, is played without any theatrical embellishments or clever directorial gimmicks whatsoever; there’s Shakespeare’s script, some bare boards and the actors.

The play is taken at a fair clip, which means as usual that at times sense and poetry are lost, but the compensations are gratifying: the exciting story is told to us by the actors only centimeters away (Hamlet may well sit next to you), subtleties and ironies are possible (Laertes congratulates Hamlet after Claudius names him his heir), the soliloquies become part of the action not solos (‘To be or not to be” is spoken directly to Ophelia), and the comedy in the tragedy arises naturally (there’s even laughter, for the first time in my experience, in the final duel).

This is also very much a New Zealand Hamlet – a Hamlet reflecting our times. The production has a No 8 wire feel to it. While it is never clear what is rotten in this state of Denmark, it is crystal clear that the Royal House of Denmark is made up of ordinary contemporary people and precious little deference is paid to them because of their status.

Simon Vincent’s Hamlet lacks any air of royalty or privilege but he brings to the role a burning modernity and everydayness about the Prince that makes you feel you could meet him at the corner dairy, though you had best be wary, he could explode at any moment. Erin Banks captures beautifully Ophelia’s love for Hamlet and her incomprehension at his rejection of her, as well as her decline into madness, is underplayed and consequently heartbreaking.

Phil Peleton’s excellent Claudius, who is not your usual obvious villain, could easily pass for a suit in Lambton Quay and Jean Copland’s Gertrude, though she reacts with the mild irritation of a hostess worried about blood on the carpet after Polonius’s death, is a respectable middle-class matron.

John Smythe makes Polonius an eager-beaver, jovial bureaucrat of the old school who is also a behind-the-scene fixer, and he completes a fine double as the gravedigger whom he makes an old professional first, a comic character second.

Alex Greig and Salesi Le’ota as Rosencrantz and Guildenstern bring some Stoppardian humour to the proceedings: Rosencrantz tosses a coin at one point, while Guildenstern has clearly been indulging in illegal substances.

Playing four roles that are usually overlooked Phil Grieve stamps his mark on a puzzled Reynaldo, a priest, an English ambassador, and a bombastic Player King who can suddenly inject emotion into obscure speeches. The Players, however, perform the dumb-show as a travesty which rather undermines Hamlet’s assumption that they are a top-notch company.

This, then, is an uncomplicated, straightforward tour through contemporary Elsinore – and what’s more it is free, though donations are gratefully accepted.

For the suburban tour schedule, click on the Production Details above.

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The Bacchanals are not frightened to challenge themselves.

Take a rundown village hall, perform one of the greatest plays in the English language, in a terrifyingly small space with no theatre lights, few sound effects and the most basic of costumes and props.

Have your actors greet the audience on arrival, get them to make cups of tea for all in the interval. Eyeball the audience from a few centimetres in some of the most intimate scenes in the play. Race through the play with speed that almost defies augury.

And three hours later, what have you got?  Quite a lot actually.

The reception from the Paekakariki audience was loud and sustained. Particularly pleasing to see the way some ten and eleven year olds were totally gripped with this unfussy, energetic and vital rendition.

So if you want to introduce your younger relations to Shakespeare take the hint and find the next free performance of this travelling troupe of players. You could do worse.

Having said all that it is incumbent on me to offer some analytical appraisal.

The first advice would be to suggest that the actors who cannot cope with excessive speed should take the speeches slowly so that tripping and incoherence are kept to a minimum.

Some of the major characters need to explore, in greater depth, the relationships that exist in this complex masterpiece. Gertrude and Claudius do little to suggest the passion that flings them together so hastily while Claudius has little conscience in his king.

Ophelia sings touchingly but the passion or the confusion that are central to her meeting with Hamlet are largely absent.

It is in the smaller roles that most of the excitement lies.

John Smythe as Polonius is an intelligent and political animal. His Polonius is assured and poised despite the seeming stupidity. His caring love for his family is as obvious as it is touching. And he is utterly at ease with the verse.

As is Phil Grieve, who offers us a Player King of fun and dignity. His rich voice and presence remind us once again of his value in the profession. The play within the play in his hands is as affecting as it is surprising. This is a deeply felt and touching performance.

Alex Greig does a virtuoso double act, first as a virile and passionate Laertes and then as an ineffectual Rosencrantz. Not quite as helpless as Salesi Le’ota’s Guildenstern, who wanders through scenes to hilarious effect as if he knows he is in a different world.

It would not take much to imagine both of these actors in Stoppard’s classic. They are ready for that challenge.

And Hamlet?

Well Simon Vincent would be the first to admit that this is the beginning of a long journey. He is full of energy and anguish. He asks, perhaps to early, for our sympathy but gets it. He is gloriously in charge of the verse and the passion of his delivery to both Ophelia and Gertrude in the great denunciation scenes are wonderfully realised.

Now he needs to study transitions, slow down, show us more of the despair which lies in and between the lines.

In the meantime, this will do very nicely.

There is some beautiful original music by Walter Plinge in David Lawrence’s production. Lawrence has helped disguise the inexperience of some of his cast. He understands the dynamic of the play and goes a long way towards offering lucky Wellingtonians a stimulating and absorbing evening in the theatre.

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Call me a raver, but I do not expect to see a more enjoyable production of Hamlet as long as I live. Okay, Simon Vincent plays Hamlet, and it’s hard to think of a more perfect casting, but this Hamlet exceeds expectations. With a performance of extraordinary verve and intelligence, Vincent turns Hamlet inside out and shows us what he, both prince and player, can be.

This is a no-frills Hamlet. He’s on the level. He’s human. This is a Hamlet who looks you in the eye from three feet away as he tells you of his plight. This is a Hamlet played in full fluorescent light as the birds tweet at dusk outside your local community hall.

There’s no set; there’s no effort wasted on creating an illusion of the castle of Elsinore. Yet its doomed legacy is fully realised in the psychological realm through the articulation of this poetry. Costuming is rich and effective being of mixed styles; players make great sport with cloak and dagger.

Casting is, for the most part, extremely effective. Phil Peleton, extra-handsome with his black-and-white beard, makes a genuinely regal ghost of his dead brother, Hamlet’s father. This ghost is no ephemeral cliché but an energetic force, so Peleton’s doubling as Claudius is all the more chilling as the calmer, mortal schemer.

Erin Banks steals those few scenes given her as Ophelia. She is a grave, flesh-and-blood sweetheart, finding transcendence in a singing voice that breaks to speaking in her grief at losing Hamlet.

John Smythe enjoys a dual comic triumph here, playing Polonius as a bumbling parody of the political adviser, and doubling as the gravedigger whose gratuitous riddles stop the show for a round of pure silliness before the fatal sword must fall. (Lost on few readers of this site—still less on Smythe himself—would be the irony in his lengthy speech which concludes with "brevity is the soul of wit".)

Comic relief comes readily, too, when the entire company assembles as The Players who ape Claudius’ heinous act, at Hamlet’s behest, and at each appearance of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, played camp and gormless respectively, by Salesi Le’ota and Alex Greig. Doubling as Laertes, Greig also makes a fine challenger to Hamlet’s honour.

I was bemused by what seemed to be a one-note performance by Jean Copland as Gertrude. Apart from being old enough to be Hamlet’s twin sister, this Gertrude doesn’t seem to give a rat’s arse about her son until the script has her showing some interest in the ‘plot’ in the second half. I found myself craving a hint of conflict in her, of maternal feeling, something that would make the mother/son relationship credible. The inevitable Freudian slant makes the play no less interesting; it just seems to me that a mother this callous would drive you nuts years before your uncle murdered your father to marry her. 

But I digress. What you need to know is that the entertainment value of this Hamlet is off the charts. Go and see for yourself.

For the suburban tour schedule, click on the play title above – then click on ‘Venue details’ 

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