The Authenticity Experiment, the clothes make the man edition. Six years ago I saw Hamlet at Oregon Shakespeare Festival (OSF) in Ashland, just a month after my dad died. I was there with the woman I thought was going to be my next wife, my final wife, actually, and with her family who had been attending plays at OSF since the 70s.
This Hamlet was different than any other I’d seen before—and with undergrad and graduate degrees in English, I’ve seen my fair share of Hamlets, including a BBC recording of Olivier playing the Dane on a West End stage (the version I liked the least). But this OSF version, rocked my world. Maybe because my own father had just died and I swear to you that while I didn’t see his ghost, I did receive an uncanny, other worldly message from him. So, I understood Hamlet in an entirely new way: his grief, his obsession, his confusion, his longing for more contact with the other side.