Neil Bowen on
From 'The Art of Drama, Volume 3'
Subjectivity
It is the lengthy, self-reflective investigation of the potential for divergence between appearance and reality, inner and outer selves, which makes Hamlet seem such a peculiarly modern play. This modernness is extended into its exploration of self-hood Among the other questions that that play brings up are those that concern individual identity. To die or not to die? To love or to hate? To tell the truth or lie? To act or not to act? Tortured by moral uncertainty to the point of mental fragmentation, as a character Hamlet exists in a state of permanent psychological crisis. Today, Hamlet might be scathingly referred to by older generations as a ‘snowflake’, paralysed in the face of his uncle’s treason because he is so sensitive to the moral complexities of his situation. His experience does not deserve such scorn. Despite his Christian faith, he finds himself in a predicament where there aren’t any simple, pre-set moral codes to follow. Instead he has to determine the morals for himself within a number of competing and irreconcilable frameworks. If Hamlet struggles to present us with an authentic self, it is not just because he is as much a performer as the smiling, lying Claudius, it is also because the various aspects of himself are pulled in different directions by a range of social and moral obligations. For Hamlet, his course of action could be determined by the divinity of kings, a son’s duty, an heir’s political responsibility, a soldier’s honour, a Christian’s piety, a prince’s authority, or a scholar’s philosophy. Put another way; to murder the king is treason; to honour his father he must kill the king; as heir he must support the king; as a warrior he must be avenged by killing the king; as a Christian, murder is wrong; as a prince, it is his duty to act on Claudius’ treason; as a scholar, he cannot conscience killing. Hamlet’s identity comprises all of these facets of himself. To choose one to override all the others is a form of self-denial and self-destruction. No wonder he cannot decide what to do!
Hamlet’s psychological crisis is epitomised by the collision of being and seeming that he articulates in his debate with his mother and uncle about his costume. But he is not alone in this. Most of the key characters battle with similarly conflicting aspects of their identity or are provoked into action by accusations that if they do not act then they are not who they appear to be. Hence a disjunction between being and seeming is at the core of the social crisis of the playworld.
As the section on Gertrude will investigate, the Queen is caught between how her son and his father both see her - a loyal and much-loved wife, seemingly turned traitor by her own lust - and how her second husband sees her as a respected partner and ‘imperial jointress’ to the state. She’s caught too between how she presents herself as rational peacemaker for her realm and family and how she comes to see herself, i.e. as an unwitting betrayer of Old Hamlet, her son’s fierce ally and traitor to her new husband. Claudius seems to be the perfect Machiavellian ruler, able to pretend virtue to his people no matter how much he manipulates the law – he can ‘smile and smile and be a villain’ [I.5,107-08] – but, ultimately, he is unable to maintain the charade before God and his seemingly straightforward villainy is complicated by his authentic genuine guilt over his act of treason. Ophelia wrestles with her contesting roles as Hamlet’s prospective wife, her father’s daughter, brother’s sister, and lady of the court. Unable to determine who she is in the face of all she is supposed to be, like Hamlet, she breaks down mentally and seeks escape in terminal not-being. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are supposed to be Hamlet’s friends, yet sacrifice their own moral code as scholars and Christians to become his prospective executioners at the order of their King. Laertes is compelled to seek stealthy revenge on Hamlet by Claudius, but such deceitful dealings collide with his identity as a perfect courtier [IV.7,10]. While the historical circumstances that have provoked this state of social turmoil differ to the present day, we see in Shakespeare’s Denmark a familiar and very contemporary sense of individual purposelessness and nihilism, provoked by too much choice, too much information, and too many colliding frameworks through which one is supposed to locate a place in the world.