Hamlet, by William Shakespeare. [Theatrical Production.] Directed by Ike Shambelan. Produced by Theater By the Blind, May 16-June 11, 2006, New York City.

Reviewed by David Kornhaber, Columbia University

There is perhaps no greater sign that a theatre company has come of age than the moment when they decide to mount a production of that perennial standard: Hamlet. Since its founding in 1979, Theater By the Blind has covered a wide variety of material, from musical reviews poking gentle fun at the company's founding trope (witness their original 1993 production, "Whattaya Blind?!") to serious productions of American classics like Arthur Miller's All My Sons. To be fair, the company, which presents a single production every year, has tackled Hamlet before, in 1992. But this latest attempt at the great Shakespearean tragedy seems to be a sign that the company is moving in a new and more serious direction. Last year, the players mounted perhaps one of the toughest canonical works for disabled actors: Seneca's Oedipus. Even more so than the Greek original, Seneca's take on the classic Greek myth paints blindness as the worst fate that could ever befall a human being, "a death among the living" as Seneca puts it. With the successful run of that play behind them, Theater By the Blind seems newly poised to restage Shakespeare's masterpiece.

Given this trajectory, one cannot shake the thought that the Hamlet that Theater By the Blind brought to the stage this season ultimately represents a missed opportunity. That's not to say the production is by any means a failure. Director Ike Shambelan, who also helmed last year's Oedipus, fulfills his program-note promise of bringing a revitalized energy to one of history's most frequently staged pieces. Covering some twenty-two roles with only six actors, the production quickly takes on an infectious frenetic energy, as actors leap from personality to personality to create the bustling world of Ellsinore Castle. Some characters in this arrangement become, predictably, one-note. But others are brought remarkably to life. John Little brings a sincerity and depth to the buffoonish Polonius that renders the minister remarkably sympathetic, while George Ashiotis, co-founder and co-artistic director of the company, finds in Claudius what seems like a true fatherly instinct towards Hamlet. Even Nicholas Viselli and Pamela Sabaugh as Hamlet and Ophelia find new ground in a relationship that's been tread by countless actors before, from Lawrence Olivier and Jean Simmons to Mel Gibson and Helena Bonham Carter, bringing out the energy and turbulence of two young lovers caught in a world beyond their control.

But while the production proves largely a success on its own terms, there remains a sense of unexplored possibilities. With the exception of Oedipus, there is perhaps no canonical work more concerned with issues of seeing, seeming, and deception than Hamlet. Witness the endless halls of mirrors in Kenneth Branagh's recent film version, or the repeated close-ups of Olivier's face and eyes in his classic movie adaptation. Hamlet, in production even more so than on the page, is a play about watching and being watched, observing and being observed. No other murder-mystery in the world hinges so famously on how the suspect reacts while watching a play. And yet, with a cast that mixes sighted, blind, and partially blind actors, only one character out of twenty-two, the Player King, is depicted as blind—and even that characteristic is brought to little effect. That's not to say Hamlet himself need be portrayed as blind, nor any of the main characters. But throw blindness as a variable into Shakespeare's carefully crafted succession of feints and counter-feints (the fencing match at the end of the play is as much a metaphor for the action of the drama as its climax) and the play explodes with possibilities.

With regard to blindness, what is perhaps most remarkable in Shambelan's production is how difficult it is to tell the sighted from the unsighted actors. This in itself is undoubtedly an accomplishment–and perhaps the strongest possible argument against those who would keep disabled theatre artists from the stage. But it's an argument that, while it contributes strongly to the ongoing debate on disability's role in the theatre, contributes little to the long history of Hamlet itself. Theater By the Blind's staging adds in so many other ways to that history—in the doubling of roles, in the nuances discovered by the actors—but remains silent on what could be its greatest contribution. Blindness may not be as explicitly present in Hamlet as it is in Oedipus, but it is there metaphorically nonetheless. Perhaps no other theatre company in the country today would have been better poised to explore this aspect of Shakespeare's masterwork than Theater By the Blind; one can only wish that they had.