David Warner, a Hamlet for his times

David Warner died a few months ago, at only 80. Warner was an English actor—you have undoubtedly seen him more than once in his long career. In addition to his movie and television roles, he was celebrated in his 20s for his Hamlet, directed by Peter Hall for the Royal Shakespeare Company. His performance was noted for its youthful and exuberant portrayal of Hamlet as a 1960s anti-hero—the “epitome of 1960s youth” in one critic’s view, for getting at the humanity of the part, in another’s. Some even said his was the greatest Hamlet of his generation (although I am not certain who is included in that group). I was sixteen when I saw him as Hamlet at the Royal Shakespeare Theater in Stratford, England. It was a theater-life-changing moment for me.

Stratford that summer was full of theater goers of all ages, students, backpackers, all drawn by the Shakespeare Festival. It was the middle of the 1960s, a few years after John Kennedy’s assassination, a year after the Selma to Montgomery march led by Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King. The Beatles and the British invasion had hit the U.S. only a couple of years before. It was the year Dylan went electric. Watts erupted that summer, protests against the war in Vietnam were intensifying. As I have said before (see my piece of March 1, 2020 describing Ruth Negga’s performance as Hamlet), Hamlet was one of my father’s favorite plays and we saw many versions of the play during my childhood. Warner’s performance captured that moment in time with a Hamlet far from what was the gold standard of Olivier, John Gielgud, and others of their generation. He was young, vibrant, funny, a bit nuts. When he said “words, words, words” he slammed the book he was reading into his face. Lines which were iconic, quoted widely, sometimes out of context, took on new meanings. It was revelatory and I loved every minute. My father appreciated the new take. My mother, who often favored the classic over the contemporary, did not.

That same year, Warner had the starring role in the movie Morgan, opposite Vanessa Redgrave. Another slightly off-kilter character. He worked steadily in movies, television, and theater, for the next five decades, in roles large and small, but every time I saw him, I was reminded of that evening, so many years ago, when it seemed my perception of drama, my relationship to theater, was altered, brought into the contemporary in a single performance. And the experience of that play for me would be followed by many innovative and daring performances, work that broke down barriers of all kinds.

Since I first started on this note, Loretta Lynn, whose music speaks to many, me included, died. I hope to post an appreciation of her monumental career in the coming days.