Ashes of Anarchy

When accomplishment overwhelmed my senses at the conclusion of 2 months of rehearsals and 10 straight days of performances, I found myself nearly shaking from feeling the energy that was stored, in the now empty space that was our small black box performance hall. My appreciation radiated in a very genuine moment, my liquid friend Carlo hadn't started kicking my arsenic at that point.

Partaking in the glory that is performing in a Shakespeare classic, left my blog sorely neglected. The production of Hamlet was an attention hoarding bastard but well worth the effort. A couple hours after the final show, my old buddy Carlo (who we served to patrons as brand XXX moonshine) definitely congratulated me with the graciousness of a pal that likes to see you make a fool of yourself so they can laugh.

With music blaring and an empty chair audience, I shimmied around the hall like a ecstatic kid embroiled in the funnest 4 person celebration I have every been a part of, then - cruck - crash - a glass object topples from a vacant seat onto the black concrete floor. Oops. I glace down and its an ash tray. It's clearly cracked, but as I picked it up gently I notice that it broke perfectly into the Anarchy symbol. It was an omen, a confirmation that the perfect storm just occurred.

This was not your father's Hamlet. Directed and starred by a renegade theatre study, Brian Rott lead 3 and half hours of mayhem on stage as Hamlet. Set during the roaring 20's, this Hamlet rendition drew inspiration from the silent film and vaudevillian influences of the time.



I played Guildenstern, one of Hamlet's childhood friends who along with Rosencrantz, are hired by Hamlet's mother to spy on him. Some perceptive audience members shared that they noticed right away the hints of Laurel and Hardy, in the portrayal of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, as we constantly tried to one-up each other in scenes as an on-running joke.



Taking the 20's theme to the hilt, the duo's reunion scene with Hamlet was set in a speakeasy with a showgirl and tin cups and all.










The vaudevillian cherry on top was the ending, with Laertes and Hamlet offing each other with pie tins of shaving cream. Hamlet's mother, Gertrude, seeing this ends her misery by dumping a 2-pint-tincture-spiked crystal glass of water on herself leaving her completely drenched, thus prompting King Claudius to shamefully pie himself in the face, drawing the 'tragic' affair to a comic close.


If you asked me a year ago if I would be an a Shakespeare play, I would have said "Are you crazy" in a "What you talking 'bout Willis" kind of way. If you would have told me I would break an ash tray into an Anarchy sign, I would have said "maybe", but never suspecting it would consummate the closing of my first semi-heavy acting experience.