The monument stands in the foreground, ominously on the edge of the palace grounds, with Elsinore visible in the background, pale in the moonlight. Although brief, the mise-en-scène here is a powerful indicator of royalty: in the space of a single shot, Branagh gives us with the impression of a Danish kingdom rather than a castle. Branagh’s refreshing change of direction from his predecessors is evident in film’s establishing shot, a slow pan in mid-shot from right to left across a colossal statue of Old Hamlet. Instead, he presents Denmark’s political turmoil in a way that complements the deeply emotional drama that unfolds in and around the figure of prince Hamlet. Unlike the acclaimed cinematic versions of Hamlet directed by Laurence Olivier (1948) and Tony Richardson (1969), Branagh’s does not shy away from the political world of Shakespeare’s tragedy. In other words, this production puts flesh on the bones of a role that most motion picture adaptations have, for various reasons, portrayed less comprehensively. Over the course of the film Branagh presents the Ghost, played by Brian Blessed, from a range of different perspectives: we see him as a king we fear him as a demon pity him as a man, and mourn him as a father. Moreover, this film offers the most complete and nuanced take on Old Hamlet and his Ghost that I’ve ever seen.
It’s exquisite to look at, the central roles are perfectly-cast (Kate Winslet is forever my Ophelia), and it features Ken Branagh bellowing verse while straddling an actual mountain. Yes, it’s unabridged and four hours long (although it absolutely breezes by), yes it’s a tad narcissistic (directed by AND adapted by AND starring…), and yes, some of the stunt casting sticks out like a sore thumb (Robin Williams as Osric springs to mind), but my goodness Branagh directs the absolute heck out of this sprawling vainglorious masterpiece. I have a pure and complete love for Kenneth Branagh’s Hamlet.
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