A solidly realised production but with an intrinsically flawed premise
‘Hamnet’ is the Royal Shakespeare Company’s much-anticipated adaptation of Maggie O’Farrell’s novel. The narrative follows the story of Shakespeare’s relationship with his wife, Agnes Hathaway, from early romance through to the devastating loss of their 11 year old son, whose name the playwright subsequently bequeaths to his great tragic protagonist.
The design of the production is visually striking in its restraint and cohesion. Earthy tones dominate Tom Piper’s wooden set, in which symmetry and clean lines abound. This realistic approach is paired to great effect with naturalistic lighting by Prema Mehta. It appears as if sunlight shines through the slats, illuminating dust motes in the air and conjuring a 16th Century Stratford that transports us far away from the opulence of the Garrick Theatre. This authenticity doesn’t preclude a little theatrical flourish: as the eaves structure forms an ‘A’ for Agnes in the first act, before giving way to an ‘H’ for Hamnet after the interval, mirroring the shifting focus of the story itself.
In the same vein as the set, the performances are largely grounded in realism with a strong turn from Madeleine Mantock (as Agnes) who has to give birth not once, not twice, but three times in the course of the show – a formidable challenge for any actress, which she rises to with aplomb. The other standout performance is from Alex Jarrett as Hamnet’s twin sister, Judith, wracked with guilt at the circumstance of her brother’s death; Jarrett’s depiction of grief is understated but potent, pitched just right in the shadow of a mother’s despair. Less believable, however, is the chemistry between the central couple, Agnes (Mantock) and Shakespeare (Tom Varey). This is less a reflection on their acting than it is a flaw in the script and, perhaps, the very premise of the adaptation. Whilst O’Farrell’s novel has been praised for its portrayal of complex relationships, so much of that nuance lies in the descriptions of what is contemplated but ultimately unspoken: a feature that does not translate well into the theatrical medium. Instead, the show follows an overly simple path from youthful flirtation to spousal dissatisfaction – before concluding on a neat resolution that undoes its careful work recentring women in the story, in favour of a classic ‘man genius’ narrative.
And therein lies the core issue with ‘Hamnet’: I don’t know why this adaptation exists. In its translation to theatre, we lose all the best parts of O’Farrell’s prose but with little gained. Tonally it’s awkward, with a deficit of comic relief in act 1 leading audiences to validate the bitter humour of the young couple’s spiteful (step) parents – a blow to the sincerity of these abuse storylines. Characters such as Eliza, Shakespeare’s sister, become mouthpieces for the information we cannot receive via prose, losing the substance of their sibling relationship and leaving us with an incredibly bland female character. These interesting relationships from the book are sacrificed in the pursuit of a much less interesting linear plot, again losing the clever back-and-forth interplay of O’Farrell’s non-chronological prose.
The argument that the production makes for its existence – at least across its promotional material – is of giving a voice to an unseen woman, an overshadowed wife. And yet historically we know next to nothing about Agnes Hathaway. Indeed, the most important aspect of Agnes’ character in the show is her ability to see glimpses of the future and past, placing us thoroughly in the realm of fiction. Is it really empowering and feminist to shine a light on an untold narrative, when that narrative is an invention that relies upon its proximity to a renowned and powerful man? The play does illustrate Shakespeare’s dependence on his family support network in realistic terms: however, it remains the playwright’s renowned words and iconic stage at the Globe on which we end ‘Hamnet’ and the relation to his famed play that we are ultimately left with at the end of the night.
Reviewer: Claudia Graham