Hamlet
In short, Shakespeare–great theatrical gardener that he was–delighted in self-conscious artifice. How fitting that the Oak Park Festival Theatre, presenting Hamlet as its annual Shakespeare-in-the-park offering, plunked a boat-size rough-hewn stage in the middle of a meadow and erected a quartet of 20-foot bare-scaffolding lighting towers around it. The whole shebang looks so unnatural it may as well have fallen out of the sky. Wandering around to the back side of the stage you can see all the goblets, rapiers, bouquets, and pivotal costume pieces laid out. Before the show, actors mill about, chat nervously, primp, and greet their friends coming through the gate, while audience members picnic noisily, snap abundant pictures (“Say ‘anchoveeeeeeee!’”), and wave excitedly across the park at one another. Everything is out in the open–even the Porta Potties greet you with substantial piles of your fellow audience members’ shit.
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Those who won’t accept that challenge risk incurring fate’s ridiculing wrath, as Henry Godinez, the actor playing Hamlet, learned the hard way on opening night: a split second after his dying words–“The rest is silence”–a beat-up old car in sore need of muffler repair roared by, turned the corner, and pulled into the park.
Art accompanying story in printed newspaper (not available in this archive): Photo from “Hamlet”, by Jennifer Girard.
