Hamlet–Act I

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That’s not a happy face.

To begin with the first line, “Who’s there?” (I.i.1), we open with the subtle fact that the way the Danes understand their identity and recognize one another is through the king. Later, Laertes states to Ophelia–regarding their relationship and how it can only be passing–“…his wil is not his own./For he himself is subject to his birth…for the choice depends/The sanity and health of this whole state” (I.iii.17-18, 20-21). The state of the kingship–and complete disarray  that is Hamlet’s family–is vital to the polis and its relation to itself.

So it’s no surprise to us that we open with watchmen who are awaiting the outbreak of war with Norway. Which brings me to my next point.

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The ghost of the old king is dressed as he was for war with Norway–the war that was won by the hands of Hamlet, when he slew the older Fortinbras–and he is asking Hamlet again  to intercede on his behalf and win a different kind of war. The war against Hamlet’s uncle, the new king, who poisoned not only the king, but the entire heir-system that this country is founded upon.

I’ll get back to the ghost after these messages.

  1. Notice that in scene three, the only characters are Ophelia, Laertes, and Polonius. Family.
  2. The word prodigal is used three times in reference to Hamlet’s emotions to Ophelia. Now, prodigal is an odd word to be used, and to be used three times in one scene. Shakespeare’s got binders full of words, and here he’s using one that brings to mind a little story called “The Prodigal Son.”
  3. Hamlet’s not allowed to go back to school because of his depression. Hmm.

One more thing, and I’ll get back to the ghost, I promise.

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Hamlet has a little monologue I want you to look at a little closer, in case you missed it in the sea of monologues that is this play:

So, oft it chances in particular men,
That for some vicious mole of nature in them,
As, in their birth–wherein they are not guilty,
Since nature cannot choose his origin–
By the o’ergrowth of some complexion,
Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason,
Or by some habit that too much o’er-leavens
The form of plausive manners, that these men,
Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect,
Being nature’s livery, or fortune’s star,–
Their virtues else–be they as pure as grace,
As infinite as man may undergo–
Shall in the general censure take corruption
From that particular fault. (I.iv.23-36)

So, I have this theory. Many of you may not have been lit majors, doomed to only understand literature via Aristotle’s poetics (because a few of your teachers are philosophers only) and haven’t had the term FATAL FLAW shoved into every fiber of your being. My theory is–once Christianity hits the scene, Aristotle’s Poetics are nice, good, true, beautiful–but at this point they’re getting half the picture, because what Christianity does is erase the entire notion of a flaw in your character determining your fate. There is no Oedipus in a Christian world. What is Hamlet’s fatal flaw? Because I can’t find it. And here, Shakespeare is making the tragic figure himself outline what a fatal flaw is and how it operates. Shakespeare. You are too cool for school.

So. I lied. About talking about the ghost. Does he come from hell? I could argue that. Purgatory? I could argue that too. I said all I had to say about the ghost in the beginning. Ha! Fooled you.

Until tomorrow, kids.

 

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2 thoughts on “Hamlet–Act I

  1. I am curious to know what exactly you mean when you write: “because what Christianity does is erase the entire notion of a flaw in your character determining your fate. There is no Oedipus in a Christian world.”

    The concept of fate certainly shifts in Christian thought to be replaced by Providence. However, sin is a determiner of one’s eternal fate just as charity is for the Christian. Not sure if that has anything to do with what you are getting at though.

    • First, perhaps I should define what I mean by fate. In reading Oedipus Rex, there’s nothing that he could have done differently. He didn’t know better than to do what he did. His fate was inevitable, and he was fated by the gods to do what he did. Providence doesn’t work in such a way as that it, by it’s nature, does not condemn. Sin, as a determiner of fate, is an action and as an action it is something chosen–which is different, if you catch my drift. Oedipus chose to leave his family, he chose not to let that “fate” happen, but it was inevitable.

      That distracts, however, from the point I’m trying to make. Man’s understanding of himself in relation to divinity (Particularly in the West–because Shakespeare focuses his attention on the West and is from the West and working in the Western tradition–start with gods, shift to God, shift to general notions of no God or gods) effects the way that we look at ourselves–created beings? evolutionary adaptations? etc.–effects the way we look at ourselves in relation to a polis, and by that very fact, it changes our literature. What I’m getting at is that Shakespeare is showing, and purposefully showing, us that this transformation is taking place in literature and it’s taking place in his century. Plays are changing because our understanding of man has changed. The foils that make tragic characters don’t apply in the same way anymore. He’s adapting the whole thing to the new understandings of man.

      I’m going to get into this a little more later on in Hamlet’s discussion with the players in Act III (it’s been awhile since I’ve been in it, so it may be later). I hope I’ve cleared up what I meant, but I must get to posting Act II now before I go to bed!

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