An actor's nightmare: 'I Hate Hamlet' addresses two kinds of acting success

Barrymore ghost and TV star's Hollywood link pose conflict for him.

My only visit to a traditional Broadway theater was in 1992, and it stands out not only for its uniqueness in my experience, but also for the buzz surrounding its star, Nicol Williamson. "I Hate Hamlet," by Paul Rudnick, featured the British actor as the ghost of the American matinee idol John Barrymore.

Williamson, a kind of loose cannon on the order of Richard Burton, had a fondness for drink on a par with the character he played. The brilliance in the performance I saw was a blend of his offstage naughtiness and his uudoubted skill as an actor, folded into each other. 

I was laughing so freely and so often that I was scolded by the man sitting in front of me. It seems that, thanks to the narrow space between the rows, my knees were vibrating his seat back each time I laughed. Thus, my enjoyment took on a physical form that intruded on my neighbor's experience.

 I was chastened, but also figured, with a bit of an eye-roll, that the New York attitude was in full force that night: Hey, this is my space — keep your distance! It was a soft-spoken version of Dustin Hoffman's character's indignation as a pedestrian threatened by motor traffic in "Midnight Cowboy."

My indelible memory, both positive and negative, surged up last night when Southbank Theatre Company opened its production of "I Hate Hamlet" in Shelton Auditorium on the Butler campus. I could not expect to feel the same frisson I once did on a rare visit to New York City, but the new production is  appealing and well put together as directed by Eric Bryant.

The rapport among the three actors who outline the play's central conflict is crisply outlined in this production: Should a talented, dedicated, well-paid TV actor add Shakespeare's greatest play to his resume? Andrew Rally is  well-known in his role in a series called "LA Medical" that's just been canceled, so he has reason to entertain puzzles about his future path. 

J. Charles Weimer played the role with a sustained level of inner turmoil on opening night. To those who believe in the paranormal, like the real-estate agent Felicia who has found his new apartment for him, the significance that John Barrymore once lived there weighs overwhelmingly.

Southbank's production is loaded with Marcia Eppich-Harris' precise, evocative sound design. reinforced by Tim Dick's lighting. The spookiness is made to fuse with contemporary anxieties (contemporary, that is, with the setting in 1991 New York City and, remotely, the West Coast Babylon called Hollywood).  The questions impacting Rally's world  do battle along with the actor's quest for sexual satisfactionn.  But there is much that amounts to a pure celebration of the magic of theater.

Anthony Nathan practically dances with Tinseltown pizazz and brash TV values as a producer dangling before Rally a career-sustaining project. It promises much more material success than the brief enhancement a Central Park run as Hamlet might provide. In Kevin Caraher's portrayal, the ghostly presence of Barrymore rises to the occasion as an encouragement for Rally to embrace the ineffable joys of stage art.

The women in Rally's life, a vivid counterpoint to the contentiousness of the men, are Deirdre, Rally's prudish but ardent girlfriend (eager and naive in  Michelle Wafford's performance); Felicia (Jean Arnold), and Lillian (Wendy Brown), a worldly-wise theatrical agent whose age and faded allure make plausible her long-ago romantic liaison with Barrymore.

The pace and well-designed interaction of the cast ran into a couple of lulls Thursday night, and the witty crackle of Rudner's writing sometimes didn't quite materialize (a few Simonesque punch lines fell a little flat). The small audience was generously responsive to the humor, indicating that the preparation and dash of the cast's delivery worked its desired effect.

Star-struck almost against my will by Williamson's rocky participation in the New York cast, I was happy to revisit  "I Hate Hamlet" in a production that had much more balance in its presentation than the uproarious star vehicle that forced me to sit decades agi with my quaking knees at an angle, giving my regards to Broadway.