We all went out to see Hamlet down in Seattle last night. Boy, those Danes sure know how to lay waste to an entire family. (And anyone else who happens to be lurking about.) I could remember only the barest details and so the blood bath at the end came as a pleasant surprise. Daughter Number One was already asleep next to me and Sons Numbered One and Three were not paying attention either. That left Son Number Two who was sitting next to me and complaining that he couldn't understand a thing they were saying. When it was over he leaned in and told me that he'd been keeping track of the body count. Seven deaths, not counting the King who dies before it starts. Good boy.
I tend to not like plays at all. Instead of getting swept up in the story, all I see are people trying to remember lines and fumbling with props. That was no different here even though the actor playing Hamlet was very good. What became the most interesting thing for me as a writer was trying to keep up with Shakespearian prose. There's an awful lot of words flying around and they take some concentration to follow. So that part is kind of worthwhile. Then everyone dies. Good clean family fun.