||[May. 21st, 2007|09:12 am]
Elsinore from the air looks like the surface of the human brain- a labyrinth of dead ends. |
The royal bed with its splayed curtains is so blatant an image of the vagina you wonder the censors didn't ask for cuts.
Every time the king takes a drink the kettledrums rumble, the trumpets blare and the guns shoot- as if the sickened kingdom were belching.
Only through the window and door of Ophelia's room do you get a glimpse of summer.
Who is Hamlet? Hamlet is the steady flame of self awareness. He is thought itself- coiled up, self-consuming, breaking free in sudden, leonine bursts of action.
"Remember me"- the universal plaint. When the corpses have been cleared away and the castle is empty and silent Ophelia's sprig of rosemary remains where she placed it, lying- overlooked- on the arm of an empty chair.