The natural amphitheater up the hill at American Players Theatre uses the open sky as its canopy. The brave o'er-hanging firmament is a blessing when weather is tame. When rain strikes, all bets are off. Seeing APT's production of "Hamlet" demanded my viewing the first two-thirds of the show before a rain-out, then a rescheduling of tickets to be able to see the entirety the following week. A curious experience occurred: during the performance where I witnessed only a bit more than three of the tragedy's five acts, my engagement came easily. The second time around, less so.
During that first performance, I found many items in James DeVita's production that resonated. In terms of the cast, Triney Sandoval excels as the blue-collar monarch Claudius, whose man-of-the-people charm helps explain why he managed to gain the kingdom of Denmark and its widowed Queen Gertrude (Colleen Madden) without any official crying foul. Chiké Johnson has numerous fun moments as a less buffoonish than paternal-to-a-fault Polonius; his interaction with his servant/spy Reynaldo (Gabriela Castillo) is the best version of that usually-cut scene I've ever witnessed, with beats excellently mined by actors and director. Alys Dickerson brings a striking militancy (and gorgeous singing vocals) to Ophelia's mad scene, with a crazed furor that almost seemed aimed at uncovering political corruption. Even Jennifer Vosters, doing understudy-duty as Horatio, brought buoyancy and verve to a role seldom associated with either.
Not that those features were absent on the second viewing, but the pleasure was diminished. The whole affair seemed less driven, with each scene treading non-urgently upon each other's heels. Both times Nate Burger brought fine clarity and a genuine sense of amiability to his own rendition of the Prince of Denmark, but on the whole, I found myself strangely unmoved. I could say Burger's Hamlet, however intelligently performed and affably presented, is a little too tidy and well-behaved for the madcap ruffian, but I suspect that's unfair. On the whole, the weakest element of productions DeVita directs are their pace. As was seen in his "Romeo and Juliet" (2014) and "Cyrano de Bergerac" (2017), he has a tenuous relationship with the drama's narrative engine, and his shows often languish in overly-relished feeling at the expense of drive. While "Hamlet" is the least guilty of that fault, it isn't free from sag, and thus pure enthusiasm for its star is hard to muster.
In between both outings to Spring Green, I also saw Amaka Umeh as Hamlet in Peter Pasyk's production at the Stratford Festival, which, simply put, blew the doors off the place. Such a comparison (like my dual viewing) is as unjust as it is unavoidable, and APT's performance looks less favorable in comparison. While DeVita and Burger give us a sturdy and capable "Hamlet," the emotional experience is simply not extreme enough to be truly memorable. However light on its feet ("Hamlet" after all is the funniest tragedy), the devastation one feels at the death of a Hamlet should be palpable, and this production embodies that idea though not the fact. Burger has never disappointed me onstage, whether as Troilus, Mercutio, James Joyce, or a Vietnam War POW. He continues that tradition here. I just find myself wishing he hadn't heeded the Dane's own advice to the players so well, as DeVita's production could stand a few more passions torn to tatters, and a little less attention to the modesty of nature.
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