I Hate Hamlet

Reviewed by Holly Bartges

If the Broadway production of Paul Rudnick’s I Hate Hamlet that opened at the Walter Kerr Theatre in 1991 had Director John Ashton and the current gangbuster Aurora Fox cast, it would be running still, instead of only squealing out 88 performances.

David Russell as John Barrymore and Geoffrey Kent as Andrew Rally in I Hate Hamlet at the Aurora Fox.

A strong statement, but a truthful one.

Funny doesn’t even come close to describing this production, nor does honest funny, or even hysterical. No word in the English dictionary is big enough to encompass this play. It is simply “Fun-tastic!!”

Sporting a delicious premise, I Hate Hamlet begs for an artistic cast and director wrapped in comedic expertise. This production has it all: timing, making sure the lines are owned by the characters without over emphasizing just because they are funny for the sake of being funny, trust, camaraderie with each other, and highly developed characterizations.

Every single actor wears his/her character as though each one was tailor-made just for him or her.

A successful TV series actor, Andrew Rally moves from Los Angeles to New York when the series was cancelled, to play Hamlet in the Theatre in the Park. Obtaining a broker to find him an apartment, he secures over dramatic, over bearing Felicia Dantine. Andrew just wants a small functional apartment. Felicia explodes in bubbles with other ideas.

If Andrew is going to play Hamlet, what better place for him to be than in the apartment once lived in by John Barrymore himself. During his time, Barrymore and Hamlet were synonymous. The apartment is hardly what one would call small and functional. On the top floor of a brownstone just off Washington Square, its ornate décor resembles the inside of a castle, so much, Andrew in shock at what he sees, wants to know where the moat is.

The ingenious Charles Dean Packard designed the glorious set and striking lighting.

Geoffrey Kent embodies Andrew with complete believability. He looks like he just walked off the set of a TV series with the clean-cut looks and handsome profile of a TV doctor. The step between a TV doctor to Hamlet stretches further than any one’s person’s legs could possibly reach.

With hair everywhere, Leslie O’Carroll dressed in radical outfits with lightening bright colors, and wild deliberate gestures, takes Felicia for a reversed roller coaster ride filled with delightful surprises.

Literally exploding onto the set by tumbling gracefully head over heels onto a sofa blocking the doorway, O’Carroll sets the bar high for Felicia and doesn’t come down until after the curtain call. Every exaggerated move from surprised eyebrows to enthusiastic gestures appears decidedly choreographed with deliberate precision. She’s not about to listen to Andrew’s overwhelmed objections.

In the midst of the contrived confusion, Deirdre McDavey explodes through the door filled to the brim with hyper-romantic exuberant energy falling in love with the apartment immediately. With Jessica Augsten filling Deirdre’s shoes, it is little wonder why Andrew loves her.

Andrew’s life gets more complicated. He dearly loves Deirdre in spite of the fact her puritanical philosophy staunchly refuses to allow her to have sex. She loves life. She loves Hamlet. She loves the charm of the apartment, and she loves Andrew, and she aches to play Ophelia. He hates Hamlet. The apartment turns him off. And Deirdre’s puritanical stance drives him up the wall.

Between Felicia and Deirdre, Andrew doesn’t have a snowball’s chance at the North Poll or in Hell.

With a loud knock and an avalanched coughing fit, a curly gray- headed woman dressed to the hilt and very out of breath applying her dramatic expertise to the hilt, joins the merriment. Andrew introduces her to Felicia as his agent, Lillian Troy, who is too caught up in her romantic memories to acknowledge much of anything. She once had a romantic fling with Barrymore, and the apartment intoxicates her with the once upon a time. Andrew doesn’t have a chance. Without looking at the program, there is but one actress who could possibly fill the illusion of Lillian. Deborah Persoff, of course. Persoff embraces Lillian with hysterical believability.

In the whirly-gig of excitement, Felicia wonders aloud how grand it would be to materialize Barrymore’s ghost. Well, she dabbles in the psychic world, always contacts her mother, thinking maybe she could reach Barrymore through her mother. This thrills everyone except Andrew. Thunder shatters the room with flashing lights. Thinking shes failed. Felicia leaves with Lillian close behind, that is, after she retrieves her hairpin from the mantle. Deirdre retires to her upstairs room, leaving Andrew swimming in the whirlwind surrounding him, the upstairs door opens filled with smoke, and there in Hamlet garb stands Barrymore. No, Felicia didn’t call him. Andrew did.

There is no other way to describe David Russell, except he’s magnificently brilliant in Barrymore’s psyche. Just what Andrew needs, much less wants.

One-line zingers fly through the air as swiftly and as unpredictable as the sword fight Barrymore eggs Andrew into. Ingeniously choreographed, complex and still very funny accompanied with thoughtful probing conversation.

This would be enough to keep the mind awhirl, right? Not quite.

Arrogant, suave, slippery, and oh so sure of himself, Gary Peter Lefkowitz waltzes into the fray offering Andrew a multi-million dollar television deal. Television is where it’s at, for him. Theatre and especially theatre in a park that is, of all things free, is beneath him and everyone else. At least with television one has commercials to get snacks. With theatre one can just sit there and pay attention. His cartoon animation spiced with smugness embossed with the dollar sign, Kevin Hart would be stealing scenes except for the competition. In this production no one has a chance of stealing anything from anyone.

Brilliantly written, magnificently produced the actors engulf every nuance, every word, every line, and every character detailed with screaming hilarity intertwined with a few poignant thoughtful moments. Bring tape to keep the ribs in place. They’ll need it.