Young actor Robert Fritz is coached by Michael Golding, the ghost of John Barrymore, in West Boca Theatre’s I Hate Hamlet(Photo by Holly Budney)
By Britin Haller
To be, or not to be Hamlet, that is the question on actor Andrew Rally’s mind in I Hate Hamlet, now playing at the West Boca Theatre Company.
On the one hand, as mentioned in the title, Andrew hates the play Hamlet and so doesn’t want to portray the lead character, on the other hand, his girlfriend may be willing to give up her virginity to him if he does so.
Sounds like a swashbuckling comedy, right? It’s certainly marketed as one with WBTC publicity saying “The laughs are nonstop.” But “aye, there’s the rub” because rather than the hysterics we are promised, I Hate Hamlet is actually an often clever “play within a play” dramady about learning to step out of your comfort zone and embrace your destiny.
Is I Hate Hamlet a slow burn? Yes, because Act One is laying heavy groundwork, including Andrew’s existential crisis and girlfriend tension. But this is a play that blooms late, finding its spark at intermission (Red Bull, anyone?) with a definite payoff in Act Two.
And don’t worry if you don’t know the play Hamlet (first performed in 1602) intimately, because all you really need to know to keep up is it’s a famous William Shakespeare tragedy with a moody protagonist.
The story is thus … it’s the 1990s, and Andrew Rally, an out-of-work Hollywood actor with an insecurity complex, moves back to NYC after his hit TV show is cancelled. His agent has booked Andrew as Hamlet in an outdoors Shakespeare-in-the-Park production, a real problem because Andrew has hated Shakespeare since high school. To rub salt in the wound, Andrew’s real estate broker has moved him into the former apartment of John Barrymore, an actor and known ladies’ man who played Hamlet to great acclaim on Broadway in 1922.
Talk about big tights to fill.
What Andrew isn’t expecting is for his broker, his agent, and his girlfriend to hold a séance in the hopes of summoning up the late thespian Barrymore. Oh, and also because Andrew’s agent, Lillian, had a torrid one-night stand with J.B. in the 1940s in that very same apartment, and she would love to see him one more time.
So imagine Andrew’s surprise when the séance works, and he’s suddenly stuck with Barrymore’s ghost who can’t leave until Andrew agrees to play Hamlet in at least one production of the dreaded play, because dem’s da rules. It’s a cute premise with a kooky cast of exaggerated characters who make Andrew seem like the sane one.
Robert Fritz, who has been in both Macbeth and Twelve Night, plays Andrew Rally with sincerity. Even though Andrew was a hot commodity on a popular TV series, he considers that a fluke, and Andrew has come home to New York to try to prove to himself that he has what it takes to make it there. After all, if he can make it there, he’ll make it anywhere.
These days, actors jump back and forth from films, to a limited series, to Broadway, and no one blinks an eye. But in the 90s, a handsome actor from popular culture would have been frowned upon, and likely not taken seriously in Times Square, which is exactly what Andrew is afraid of. All he wants is respect on the boards, but does he have to earn it by wearing tights and reciting iambic pentameter?
Director Holly Budney has cast her childhood friend, Michael Golding, in the part of the not-so recently departed John Barrymore. But this is no clear case of nepotism, because Golding comes by it honestly, having appeared in twenty-one productions of Shakespeare, including inhabiting the roles of Oberon, Oedipus, Brutus, and even Romeo.
Golding holds us in the palm of his hand in Act Two’s monologue in which he laments selling his soul to Hollywood, giving Andrew just the push he needs to pick up the skull and embrace the role he was meant to play.
The actor John Barrymore was known to be a deeply morose alcoholic, prone to a dark side and full of self-hatred. He was also charming and witty, and that is the Barrymore that Golding taps into. In Golding’s hands, Barrymore is arrogant and a born ham, but also at times, a generous mentor, and dare we say it, even a friend.
Of course, J.B. does have an alternative motive in that he can’t leave until Andrew plays Hamlet, so Barrymore obviously wants the young man to succeed.
The showstopping swordfight between J.B. and Andrew was choreographed by Blaine DeBerry who appeared in last season’s Handle With Care. Kudos to Golding and Fritz, who had us on the edge of our seat with their fancy footwork, holding our breath during each parry, lunge, and thrust. Mad respect is due, as the duel brought back memories of our own required fencing course in college, a class defined less by grace and more by survival.
As Gary Lefkowitz, Timothy Gore resembles a used-car salesman, not that there’s anything wrong with that. We loved Gore as Arthur Vance in last season’s The Outsider, and while this character isn’t as much of a presence as Vance, Gary is definitely in the running for one of the best spin-doctors of all time. And who can blame him for his zealousness, after all, Gary is presenting Andrew with the deal of a lifetime.
As wisecrackers go, recent Carbonell Winner Beverly Blanchette is one of the best. We absolutely worshiped her as Lulu the ditzy receptionist in The Outsider last year where she co-starred with Timothy Gore. As Felicia Dantine, Blanchette has just the right amount of over-the-topness needed to buy into her claim she’s a real estate person by day, and a psychic-medium who talks to the dead by night. Blanchette’s Felicia is an opportunist with a heart of gold, and we simply must love her.
Lili Mueller as Dierdre McDavey, Andrew’s girlfriend of five months who becomes amorous when he quotes “The Bard,” is as lovely as Ophelia with her innocence and fragility on full display. “Get thee to a nunnery,” Andrew tells her when he wants to turn her on, this of course, drawing laughs. This is Mueller’s debut on the West Boca stage, and she embraces the melodramatic lady doth protest too much Dierdre with full abandon.
Fern Katz plays Andrew’s agent, Lillian Troy, for the third time, and there’s no doubt, Katz has the role down pat. Lillian is an unabashed European smoker, even when her health is clearly at risk, requiring Katz to alternate between regular coughing and delivering her lines with a heavy German accent. It’s hinted that Lillian is ignoring her own mortality, refusing to even face the possibility of what, or who, is coming for her.
So when she finally lets her guard down with her former lover, John Barrymore, the result is the sweetest moment in the show. Days later, we are still pondering the symbolism of their slow dance. Is it, as we believe, a liminal moment? After all, Lillian exits not through the front door, but through what appears to be a wall and is never mentioned again.
The castle-like scenic design by Alan Nash and Mark Hernandez (the latter who also co-directs with Budney) is understated and effective. Budney’s faded-grandeur set decoration conjures up the spirit of a time when Barrymore would have been in residency with its medieval high back chairs, a suit of armor, and grand piano. Adding his portrait over the fireplace was a nice touch and reminds us why they called Barrymore “The Great Profile.”
Budney’s choice of music, and thunderclaps and lightning placement, add to the ambiance. Her costumes are appropriately fitting for a Renaissance Fair weekend with the highlights being the required black tights and tunics, Dierdre’s flowing-white Athena-like gown and her Tudor-style burgundy velvet one with ornate brocade and flowing sleeves, and Lillian’s lovely tea-length softly-pleated dress in periwinkle blue.
I Hate Hamlet was written by Paul Rudnick (Addams Family Values, The Stepford Wives remake) who got the idea when he himself moved into John Barrymore’s former NYC apartment.
The play opened on Broadway in 1991 and was full of controversy from the beginning when the actor playing Barrymore, Nicol Williamson, behaved badly to his fellow actors, both on-stage and off, causing Evan Handler (Andrew) to walk off mid-performance, never to return. Handler’s understudy finished the show, while Handler, whose career certainly didn’t suffer, went on to star in Sex and the City, and a multitude of other well-received films and episodic TV. Reportedly, the final straw was Williamson changing the swordfight choreography and slapped Handler on the back with his sword.
Williamson reportedly hated being onstage when Barrymore had no dialogue, so he would just leave until it was time for him to speak again. And God forbid, patrons were late to the theater, because Williamson would sometimes stop mid-sentence until they took their seats. Not surprisingly, despite big names like Celeste Holm in the cast, I Hate Hamlet closed after only 88 performances, a little over two months after its premiere.
But somehow the production was nominated for two Tony Awards, including Adam Arkin as Gary who lost out to Kevin Spacey in Lost in Yonkers. Spacey played Uncle Louie, a shady mobster who acts as a mentor to two young boys. Yikes, that didn’t age well.
I Hate Hamlet isn’t Tolstoy, but it’s not supposed to be. It’s a dependable dramady, not comedy, (although we did laugh a handful of times), that’s been consistently produced since it opened over thirty-five years ago, primarily because it understands something essential about the human condition.
Most of us are Andrew, or have been at some point, wanting the prestige and applause, but dreading the exposure and the what-ifs. Andrew Rally represents the modern anxiety of being seen, judged, and perhaps exposed as less than legendary. But as Andrew finds out, greatness is not inherited by proximity to legends, it’s earned by daring to stand in the shadow of a giant and speak up anyway.
And for a “comedy” about tights and ghosts, that is no small achievement.
Thinking we were going in for nonstop laughs, and instead feeling like Mariah Carey at the 2017 New Year’s Eve Times Square celebration (“They told me there’d be tea”), little did we know we’d be moved in unanticipated ways, reminding us that bravery is less about perfection, and more about the willingness to try. “Courage is being scared to death, but saddling up anyway, Pilgrim,” John Wayne would tell Andrew.
So what will happen? Will Andrew finally make it through an entire production of Hamlet thereby exorcising Barrymore’s ghost? Will Lillian’s fond memories of her night with Barrymore hold up? And most importantly, will Andrew and Dierdre ever consummate their relationship?
In the end, Barrymore teaches Andrew how to take a curtain call with a flourish, and to milk it for all it’s worth. And what a curtain call it is. Every actor should enjoy such a curtain call at least once in their life.
You don’t need to be able to recite Hamlet backwards while fencing in tights to appreciate the message of I Hate Hamlet. Although it couldn’t hurt.
All’s well that ends well, as they say.
I Hate Hamlet from the West Boca Theatre Company runs through February 25 at the Levis JCC Sandler Center, 1050 95th Avenue S., Boca Raton (south of Glades Rd, west of Lyons, be prepared to present your driver’s license at the guard gate); 7:30 p.m. on Saturdays; 2 p.m. on Wednesdays and Sundays. Running time is approximately 120 minutes with a 15-minute intermission. General admission tickets starting at $40 for non-JCC members. Call 561-558-2520, or visit levisjcc.org.
Britin Haller is a journalist, editor-for-hire, and an author who serves on the board of directors for the Mystery Writers of America Florida Chapter. As a celebrity wrangler, Brit regularly rubbed elbows with movie, sports, and rock stars, and as a media escort, she toured with NY Times bestselling authors. After appearing in local musicals and all-state choir, Britin studied theater at Indiana University (a Big 10 college) and the University of Evansville (Rami Malek’s alma mater).
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