Shakespeare’s Hamlet was one of my first introductions to the Bard. A tragedy of immense proportions, the complex web of conflicts and plots weave together to build a unified rising action towards the play’s depressing climax. Since there’s so much to cover due to the play’s length, I’d like to focus on a couple things I found most intriguing about the work.
There was a chart in my seventh grade classroom that showed the severity of crimes as a rising ladder, with murder in the second place and suicide on top, implying that to be capable of killing yourself you first had to be capable of killing another (either that or they simply put it on top to avoid the ridiculousness of implying someone could commit a crime after killing themselves). I kept thinking during the play that since Hamlet cannot kill himself (a least not without the Christian threat of eternal damnation), he moves down one step off the ladder, channeling his grief and sadness into a vengeful rage that dooms nearly every character.
The “To be” speech is our first glimpse into this transformation, which happens by the end of the monologue where Hamlet says, “Conscience makes cowards of us all”. Hamlet’s conclusion is fascinating, since it implies that to exist is to be a coward (I interpreted this as referring directly to the control we give up over our own lives by not choosing when to end it, thus creating uncertainty and the fear of an unexpected death).
He goes on to say,
“And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.”
Here he speaks of the thoughts that block ambition (how rumination leads to inaction), but then, beautifully, he receives Ophelia as she enters and immediately enacts the beginning of his plan, treating her terribly because of his “madness”. His disparity turns to sharpened purpose in the blink of an eye and sets in motion the events of the rest of the play.
King Claudius, devious as he is, sees a shadow of this plan as he hides and listens to Hamlet’s words, afraid of that “which his melancholy sits on brood;
And I do doubt the hatch and the disclose
Will be some danger”.
Claudius is a master manipulator–he has to be to have gotten where he is–and as a plotter himself he senses Hamlet’s ulterior motive.
What’s interesting to note is that if Hamlet is acting “mad” on purpose, then there really is no reason for his cruelty towards Ophelia. This is something that plagued me throughout the play, since Ophelia is really the only innocent character we lose, and it happens through Hamlet’s supposedly honorable actions. Especially anchored to this is Hamlet’s unrelenting badgering of sexual purity, most notably before the play within a play begins. If we’re to believe this all stems from the knowledge he has that Ophelia is working as a kind of spy for the king, it makes me question whether he ever truly loved her, or if the circumstances of the play have overruled any previous feelings he might have had.
Hamlet is an amazing character, constructed as a fully-realized three-dimensional person with his own contradictions and inner secrets. Four hundred years haven’t dimmed the strength of the story, and I found myself riveted more than I expected (though I found the ending a little too expedient).
All of this feeds into what I loved most about the play, the complex web of players that increasing move towards a summit of action. It feels less like reading a play and more like watching a strategic game of chess, where in the beginning movements are slow and hard to decode, but by game’s end pieces fall in quick succession until an unexpected checkmate occurs.
“What’s interesting to note is that if Hamlet is acting “mad” on purpose, then there really is no reason for his cruelty towards Ophelia. This is something that plagued me throughout the play, since Ophelia is really the only innocent character we lose, and it happens through Hamlet’s supposedly honorable actions”
I mentioned it on Carrie’s blog and in my own, but I think he needs to be 100% in his plan and he is in full resent female mode which he takes out on Ophelia. At the same time, I think the nunnery scene is him hinting to her that he cares about her without losing his vacade. She just doesn’t understand what he is alluding to.
Madness is such a theme, not only in terms of revenge, but love as well. Wouldn’t it be a form of madness for Claudius to kill his brother then another form for the wife to be with Claudius? Ophelia, Hamlet, Claudius, etc. all experience a different madness which leads to their demise. Shakespeare definitly dove deep into this play. I love it!
I also thought that if he’s feigning madness, and going to the lengths in some of his “mad” speeches that he is, then by that point Ophelia might just be collateral damage given his ultimate goal of killing the king.
As for the nunnery comment, when I was looking things up I sort of took this as an elaborate way of Hamlet calling her a prostitute, given the other incredibly vicious insults he heaves.
This is a great discussion! As a group, you seem to be particularly interested in the Hamlet/Ophelia relationship, so there’s some potential to examine that in a thematically organized group project.
“What’s interesting to note is that if Hamlet is acting “mad” on purpose, then there really is no reason for his cruelty towards Ophelia. This is something that plagued me throughout the play, since Ophelia is really the only innocent character we lose, and it happens through Hamlet’s supposedly honorable actions.”
I would argue that none of the characters were innocent. All were plotters and deceivers, which is part of what lends the play it’s intrigue. Even Ophelia reads less than virtuous. She enters into a plot with Polonius and Claudius to help figure out what is going on with Hamlet. If she had simply told Hamlet what was going on, would things have ended differently? No one in the play is without blood on their hands.
True, but I don’t think her (or even Polonius) were nearly culpable as the king or some of the other characters. However, I do think you’re right in that none of the characters are innocent, and I think that’s also what I liked about the play. Human relationships are messy, and no one fits into a stereotypical mold. I still can’t believe, just as a writer, that Shakespeare was able to achieve what he did in his plays four hundred years ago. Such rich characters and dialogue.
Ophelia, though, has less choice. Culturally, at this time, if your father and your king approach you, cooperation is less about your own agency than about self-preservation.
Definitely. My wife and I are watching the Branagh adaption and she’s such a tragically cornered character.
Absolutely. I feel like her betrayal was almost the straw that broke the camel’s back (forgive me for using such a trite analogy). Hamlet’s rant at Ophelia was his pain seeping out – it physically hurt to read. He loved her passionately and she betrayed him – he knew that there was no one else to turn to at that point. He was alone with nothing but his own thoughts – that’s enough to make any person go truly mad.
“What’s interesting to note is that if Hamlet is acting “mad” on purpose, then there really is no reason for his cruelty towards Ophelia. This is something that plagued me throughout the play, since Ophelia is really the only innocent character we lose, and it happens through Hamlet’s supposedly honorable actions.” Originally I too thought that Hamlets treatment of Ophelia gained him no advantage in his master plan, thus solidifying his true insanity. I suppose that in a way she could have been used as a pawn in his plan so as to give him an “alibi” of sorts as to the cause of his madness. At any rate, her story truly was haunting and heartbreaking. She’s just a girl who wants to marry the prince and live happily ever after, but sadly loses everything in the crossfire of the ones around her.
I love how simple everything is in the beginning, we have these clear cut goals of Hamlet’s revenge against Claudius and his love for Ophelia, but it all becomes so twisted by the ending. I honestly think that Ophelia’s decline and death were a product of Hamlet losing control of his “plan” (dangerous enough as it was), and show that while Hamlet’s intentions might have originated from an honorable place they ultimately destroyed him.
What an insightful observation.
I think that Hamlets madness may be a question of opinions. What’s really considered mad? Where do we draw the line where if someone crosses it they are crazy? What made me feel as if he were putting on a show was his ability to still think clearly enough to scheme. My idea of madness is more of Ophelia’s behavior in the end. Although he’s flirty with that line I’m not sure he fully crosses it. Perhaps he just walks along it.
I don’t mean madness insomuch as insanity, but rather the obsessive frame of mind that leads him to his actions. At some point he loses control of what he’s doing, and whether he intends to act “crazy” anymore is besides the point–he’s crossed the Rubicon and it destroys everything he wanted to restore. The whole dichotomy inside his mind, wanting to act but beating himself up for not acting, rips him apart through the play. I also got the feeling that he admired Fortinbras for taking immediate action to avenge his father, where Hamlet is shamed further with everyday Claudius lives.
Obsessive is definitely the right word for his actions. He becomes OCD about achieving revenge. I agree he seems frustrated with himself that he doesn’t just kill Claudius without a second thought.
This is a good point. My interpretation has always held as important the fact that Hamlet is not a warrior, not a soldier. He is a scholar, one who has pursued a life of the mind, and such a persuasion does not lend itself well to plots of murder. I think that’s why your theory that Hamlet loses control of his plan seems so spot on to me.
Another thing is that, immediately upon seeing the ghost of his father Hamlet is plunged into a place of grandiosity. Not only should he avenge his father’s death because it’s the honorable thing to do as a son, but now it’s actually been ordained from beyond the mortal realm. From this point on he’s more than someone conspiring to kill, he’s elevated (in his own mind) to the level of divine judicator. This kind of hubris, I think, is what ultimately topples him from any sort of stabilized approach to carrying out Claudius’ murder.
Interesting seventh grade chart, and good memory! Although I could be missing something, I didn’t see you equate Hamlet’s revenge into this chart process. If Hamlet was to kill himself without first killing Claudius, wouldn’t he also suffer in eternal damnation (I’m not sure based on what faith exactly) for not exacting revenge, and honoring his father’s wish?
I think no matter how you look at it, once Hamlet commits to murdering Claudius he is damned. I mentioned the chart because Hamlet wanting to kill himself means that he is already capable of murder (since, according to the chart, to kill yourself you have to first be willing to kill another). I’m starting to wonder if I’m remembering the chart backwards, though, with murder being above suicide…
As for the revenge aspect, I think that at first Hamlet is in dire, depressive straits. He is miserable at the state of things, and contemplates suicide, but in finding that Claudius killed his father, he has a new reason to go on living–avenge his father.
One thing I think is also interesting is the ghost, and its surprising scarcity throughout the play. In the beginning, the ghost acts as a mechanism for setting all the events of the play in motion, but after that it’s almost as if he’s no longer needed. We move past the revenge (where Hamlet should not be center stage, but rather his father’s honor) straight into Hamlet’s own desires to kill Claudius. The ghost seems to act like an excuse for Hamlet, but once he has that permission in hand he fuels it with his own passions for vengeance.