Talk about an immersive, intimate opening scene: a video of childbirth in graphic detail. The umbilical cord is cut and the circumference of the head measured – a test for Down’s syndrome, affecting babies born with an extra chromosome 21, which changes how the brain and body develop. The cast of eight young actors all have Down’s syndrome, bringing their personal perspective to this bold, brave modern version of the play, written and directed by Chela De Ferrari for Teatro La Plaza from Lima, Peru.
In case we may be concerned about their ability to act, with a sardonic sense of humour they explain: ‘If I blank, just wait. I’m OK. We shall speak but we have surtitles. Don’t expect the Hamlet you imagine.’ A flurry of flashing torches illuminates the shimmering ghost of Hamlet’s father on screen. The King has lost his crown, his wife and his life, at the hands of ‘the snake Claudius. Kill the King – traitor!’ is the command to his son.
Sitting on a large white armchair, wearing a crown, Jaime Cruz shares his passion for the dramatic art of theatre, ‘I am Jaime, I am an actor, I am Hamlet – Jaimlet!, laughing at his own witty joke. He dismisses fools who think they (the cast) are fools due to a defect of nature. ‘I hate prejudice and assumptions’.
Casually dressed in jeans, the ensemble play a variety of roles simply by donning a skirt, dress, Elizabethan ruff and a burgundy velvet jacket, which looks so funky worn over a Spiderman t-shirt. When Ophelia shows Hamlet her romantic keepsakes, a Valentine teddy and ‘our song’ on her mobile phone, he seems rather anxious about this blossoming relationship and shyly admits that he cannot keep promises.
A key focus is on the timeless, existential question – ‘To be or not to be?’ Spoken by these actors, the lines express such poignancy and pathos – ‘Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer, the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles,’ – reflecting their pain and struggle living in a society which widely ignores and excludes them.
Time for advice from two famous Hamlets – first Jaime has a Skype call to Ian McKellen, asking how did he prepare for the role, and did it make him cry? Ian does admit that it was difficult to remember the lines.
On-screen, in giant close up, Laurence Olivier performs the soliloquy, his classic actorly mannerisms, cleverly mimicked by Jaime with cool, comedic impressionism.
But the conclusion is that McKellen and Olivier both had their theatrical visions, and these creative young guys and gals are free to do their own thing, joining in a Rap dance with energetic rhythm.
Then back to the story. Three girls play Olivia, chatting like teenagers, to share their hopes and dreams; a solo dance by Olivia in a virginal white wedding dress, floating through the waves. With inventive costumes and audience participation, the Mousetrap play is performed with delightful humour and dramatic conviction.
Throughout, Shakespeare’s text weaves in and out of the actors’ feelings and fears. ‘Why do we bear insults. I don’t want your pity. I’m stronger.’ There’s a mixed sense of vulnerability but a determined spirit. A series of filmed monologues gives an insight into their lives and sense of injustice: one girl says she lost her father when she was just nine, but needed him for far longer. Their questions asking why are like appeals to God. Does he actually care for them?
From the opening vision of birth, now Hamlet clutches, caresses Yorick’s skull – a symbol of death and of remembrance of those long gone. ‘The End is silence. Go, bid the soldiers shoot’.
The tranquil final scene in shimmering dark shadows is most unfortunately a false ending. The powerful, poetic moment of silence is loudly disrupted as the ensemble turn dark drama into a disco beat with the reggae-rap song, Despacito.
However, in this majestic, magical, musical performance, they express such a fresh, natural exuberant acting style, distilling drama down to the bone to reflect personal emotion and identity behind the mask of a theatrical role. As Jaime says, ‘the world is a stage, men and women in it merely players. We’ll present our story as best we can’. This is their stage as we hear their songs of protest, their distinctive, dramatic voice.
With thanks to Viv Devlin for this review. All images Jess Shurte.
