We would go and see Shakespeare’s ”Hamlet” at the royal dramatic theatre, and prepared us by going through the document. The first is Hamlet jättesur on his mother that she has married when the father has died, then it turns out that it is mom’s new guy, uncle Claudius, who has murdered his father. Then you die in virtually all.
Hamlet is a tonårsgrabb who do not want the mother to be comforted by someone else, and is more angry that she has married than for someone to have killed dad. The father may come to haunt insistent before Hamlet initiates the criminal investigation.
klängde everything further up the Dramatic stairs and to the end positioned us at the back on the other line. It was warm and crowded and youthful, someone had the hat on and someone else glared in his mobile even when the show had begun. Young people, I thought, irritated, and felt like queen gertrude’s irritated friend (no, she is not, but she should be). Is not Hamlet a rather grumpy teenage guy?
Then began to play and then I began to think of the Faucet in place where it once stood: Think that Shakespeare could write a whole piece of almost just quotes.
It must aim at ”Hamlet”. I know of no other Shakespearepjäs where you recognize so many winged words.
the Ghost came in a cloud of smoke, as most made him look like a dangerous for the environment öststatsindustri in the sixties. The smoke poured out of the auditorium, people in the stalls coughed.
the Audience listened attentively and a little kulturnervöst: what was now this a modern invention? Would you perceive the fire alarm as a howling metaphor for Hamlet’s despair?
But it was not, it was a very genuine fire alarm and the whole audience got myllra out on the street. It did not so much, it was a beautiful spring evening and the theatre audience does not seem to be so inclined to rush screaming in panic, but strolled quietly.
Then svärdade Hamlet all, as it stands in history’s best-looking summary, Barbro Lindgren and Anna Höglund funny ”Look, Hamlet”. At the royal dramatic theatre was the most pity on the Polonius for he was more alert than usual.
We went home and stuck my nose in a mystery novel, a welcome relaxation because they, as usual, was very much less bloody than Shakespeare. You should be wary of the classic.
