A re-imagining of Hamlet, told from Ophelia’s perspective.
William Shakespeare’s “Hamlet” has been visualized on the silver screen a number of times, most notably by Laurence Olivier in 1946 and by Kenneth Branagh, who committed to a four-hour, word-by-word adaptation 50 years later. Filmmaker Claire McCarthy adopts a radically different perspective — although its progressive nature is arguable in the current #TimesUp era — retelling the age-old tale from Ophelia’s perspective. While the concept could have birthed a searing, politically-charged, delightfully idiosyncratic film, McCarthy pieces together a soapy narrative, somewhat unsure of the stance it’s taking on sexual politics. Barely held together by its central performance, “Ophelia” doesn’t entirely function as a statement on female empowerment, nor does it do justice to the Bard, amounting to a pretty-to-look-at-but-pointless retelling.
The film follows Ophelia (Daisy Ridley) from her early days in Denmark, where she witnesses young Prince Hamlet being taunted by Claudius (Clive Owen). “May he soon rise from his mother’s lap,” Claudius spews, offering a first glimpse at the radioactively toxic masculinity to follow. Soon after, Queen Gertrude (Naomi Watts) appoints Ophelia as “one of [her] ladies,” yet the girl suffocates in her dresses, “dances like a goat” and seeks refuge in the nearby river, leading to derision from her fellow chambermaids. “Have you seen how she wears flowers and never jewels in her hair?” Ophelia overhears them chatting. “She smells of garden soil.” When a grown-up Hamlet (George MacKay) stumbles on Ophelia bathing in her haven, a romance blossoms so fast, it’s as if it’s been fertilized.
Soon the King dies (read: is poisoned). As the newly-elected King, Claudius is unaware of Hamlet’s tumultuous affair with Ophelia — nor does he know that they’ve secretly married, or that the prince has promised to take her far away. This leads to a series of events: Claudius discovers a certain item on Ophelia’s neck; exiled witch Mechtild (also played by Naomi Watts) discloses the King’s murderous treachery to Ophelia; Ophelia reveals the King’s murderous treachery to Hamlet; Hamlet stages a play unveiling said treachery; Hamlet kills Ophelia’s father (by mistake); Ophelia is left with “no fortune, no family, no virtue”; a fake death is staged; and a culminating, decisive sword fight is, well, fought.
McCarthy boldly takes liberties with the source material – and let’s face it, she’s no Kenneth Branagh. While the production design, as well as the costumes, are top notch (those ballrooms!), the plot meanders through its first two acts and then rushes through the overwrought third. The on-the-nose, unintentionally hilarious dialogue certainly doesn’t help matters. “In law, I am your brother,” Claudius seductively proclaims to Gertrude, moments before kissing her passionately, “but I’ve never much loved the law.” “You stopped my heart,” Hamlet tells Ophelia. “If your heart stopped,” she replies, quite reasonably, “you would die.” “I seem to be quite alive,” he says. “Appearances deceive,” she fires back.
I should really stop there, but I’m having too much fun. “I have never forgotten you,” Hamlet assures Ophelia. “Well, forgive me if I doubt it,” Ophelia cries out, before running off-screen. “You’re a very bad girl to be so good,” Ophelia’s father reprimands (?) his daughter. “Has your revenge run cold?” Ophelia asks Hamlet. “It burns in peace now,” he responds solemnly. I can hear the Bard rolling over in his grave as I write this.
For all its purported feminism, the film seems to intermittently revel in its displays of the aforementioned toxic masculinity. Women’s knees wobble at the sight of sword-wielding men battling it out. A power play unfolds between Hamlet and the newly-appointed King Claudius, with the surrounding women playing the roles of “hapless observers.” A woman gets harassed by a group of men until Ophelia intervenes (futilely) and Hamlet comes to save the day. “My mother’s like all women – fickle, frail,” Hamlet spouts, hammering the film’s supposed point home — and yet Ophelia still kisses/loves the defiantly sexist fucker. Their romance & lovemaking scenes are soapy and run-of-the-mill — anything BUT edgy.
Daisy Ridley’s performance as Ophelia goes a long way in infusing the film with substance, saying more with her gestures than the entire feature does with words. Otherwise, there’s surprisingly little chemistry between the rest of the cast. The usually-reliable Clive Owen either looks bored or snaps to life and turns the dial to 11, hamming it way up. Watts is curiously muted in a dual role, both as Queen and witch, her character(s) checked out. MacKay is way too theatrical and whiny as Hamlet — you hardly believe a strong, empowered character like Ridley’s Ophelia would fall for the slobberin’ sissy.
McCarthy and her writer Semi Challas designed this as a study of how times have changed, a purposeful twisting of a classic, a “break-through-the-mold” story of a woman breaking through the mold. To tackle Shakespeare, however, they should’ve sharpened their writing. To use “Hamlet” to hold up a mirror to the current societal paradigm shifts… well, they simply need more experience.
In theaters Friday, June 28th
