Hamlet (idea)

Hamlet is a silly twit. He is a spoiled brat plunged in the depths of melancholia because his hyperion of a father died and his dear mother has married his satyr-like uncle, and his diseased mind constantly conjures up images of his mother and uncle sleeping together, making love on an enseamed bed. It is obvious that poor Hamlet, on top of being completely deranged (evidence? wandering about the palace speaking in riddles and muttering “To be, or not to be” all day), rejected by the similarly idiotic Ophelia, and not allowed to return to Wittenburg (what’s he doing at a university at the age of thirty anyway), the only place he could ever have a chance of getting a decent social life, is, alas, suffering from an Oedipus complex (who else harbours such obsessive disgust at their own mother’s sexual behaviour?). This, combined with the lack of intellectual stimulation in Denmark the prison, what with the top court circles consisting only of people like Polonius the old fool, Ophelia the idiot and Horatio the cretin who worships him in lover-like adoration, provokes Hamlet to set his mind to work, who devises a cunning plan so that Claudius will think he’s gone completely dotty and hopefully send him to a loony bin somewhere, where he can act as crazy as he likes and take no responsibility for it. (He is obviously jealous of Laertes, who’s not only more handsome and accomplished than he is, but can game, drink, fence, swear, quarrel and drab as he chooses.)

So he proceeds to offend Daddy Claudius and Mummy Gertrude as much as he can by putting on naughty plays, during which he cracks crude jokes (which he no doubt thought very witty) at Ophelia, and after that little bit of fun, decides to kill his lady’s dad just as the last bit of icing on the cake. Then he cunningly secures his mother’s affection once again so that she’ll cover for him, but not after he acts all self-righteous, telling her to confess herself to heaven and to assume a virtue if she has it not. He then got what he wanted (to leave Denmark, what else) by telling Claudius that Polonius, his most trusted adviser, is at supper not where he eats, but where he is eaten, which threw Claudius in a very bad mood and prompted him to send the spoiled brat off as soon as possible. Hamlet, nevertheless, got the last word by giving him a very ambiguous and confusing unisex farewell.

Being the rogue and peasant slave that he so rightly calls himself, Hamlet, who’s never had many friends anyway, found that only Horatio, with his exclamations of “my sweet Prince!”, is the only person who still stands by his side, for not only do Claudius and Laertes want to chop his head off, but even Rosencrantz and Guildenstern have cleverly manoeuvred their alliances to the new king, a thing which spoiled little Hamlet cannot accept, and in the spirit of a true friend, (after he’s called them sponges and acted all haughty and royal,) has them sent to England and beheaded, or hung, drawn and quartered, or whatever similar fate that the bored and sadistic English felt like exposing them to. Meanwhile Hamlet himself, leaving faithful little Horatio pining after him at home in Denmark (oh such joy as you have never seen when he receives a mere letter from his beloved Lord Hamlet!) has a bit of a frolicking with the pirates he encountered, drinking lots of rum and no doubt dealing freely with the ladies on shore, while the distressed Ophelia goes and drowns herself in a river, thinking of all the money, the jewels, and of course the title of queen eventually, that she has forsaken by playing hard-to-get and rejecting Hamlet in the first place.

The action then gets going. Angry Laertes, who has signed himself over to the Devil and allied with Claudius to kill Hamlet who has stabbed his dad and drove his darling little sister insane, now plots to murder Hamlet by challenging him to a duel, but only after poisoning the tip of his own sword in deadly poison. Hamlet, being arrogant as usual, accepts the challenge thinking he’ll win when indeed he’s been on a pirate ship for ages, and more importantly when everybody else in the kingdom, including his best friend, think the opposite and are betting vast amounts of money on Laertes (and god knows the Danes are wise betters). In true revenge tragedy fashion, everybody dies, a thing which would no doubt annoy the audience, who would have been hugely satisfied with Hamlet’s death alone.

First Laertes stabs Hamlet, who immediately stabs him back with the poisoned sword (both are now poisoned — two down); this is followed by Gertrude drinking the poisoned wine that was meant for Hamlet, so of course Mummy dies. The furious Hamlet then decides the state of Denmark is truly rotten, a fact that can only be remedied by committing regicide and killing Daddy Claudius, which is what he does. He then proceeds to hop around refusing to die, exclaiming “I am dead” to Horatio quite a few times before that assertion ceased to be a lie. A head count would reveal that the confused Osric and distraught Horatio are the only ones left in this quarry of havoc. In Hamlet’s last minutes of his life, his sense of his own importance is even more elevated, as he pretends to muster his last breath (except he’s only being melodramatic) to give Fortinbras his dying voice (as if anybody would want to be king of Denmark, anyway), although no one actually told him he was going to succeed Claudius as King of Denmark. Likely to have been proved most royal? Ha! Dream on, Hamlet. Fortinbras was only being polite.