Four Hamlets, waiting for a cue, are trapped in an existential conundrum.
Characters
Hamlet 1: A "Modern" 1970s Hamlet.
Hamlet 2: A "Classical" Hamlet.
Hamlet 3: A "Female Interpreted" Hamlet.
Hamlet 4: A German, “Avant-garde" Hamlet.
(A side entrance into a theatre space. Farther upstage is a door to the backstage. After a moment Hamlet 1 rushes out of backstage door and runs to side door. He waits and listens. More waiting and listening. Longer. More. Finally he tries to open the door—it's locked! He runs back to side door and tries it. It’s locked! He immediately returns to side door when Hamlet 2 runs out through backstage door. Hamlet 2 runs to side door and does same as Hamlet 1. Hamlet 1 watches. After Hamlet 2 passes Hamlet 1 for a second time Hamlet 2 stops. The Hamlets size one another up and down. And then again. Finally....)
2
Might I enquire, Rogue, who you may be?
1
Who are you?
2
Ah, that is the question, isn't it?
1
Well, I'm supposed to be Hamlet, man.
2
Questionable, very questionable. Particularly with that sad and inappropriate attire. However, if it isn't obvious, I am Hamlet, and I am in the midst—
1
Look, man, you're kind of killing my vibe. See—
2
Sir! I am in the midst of a production. I do not have time for trivialities. Therefore, I must insist, be off, my cue, and my adoring fans, await.
1
Your cue?
2
Yes, my slovenly solipsist, a cue. It's a pre-designated sign to convey—
1
Man, you are bringing me down. I know very well what a cue is.
2
Ah, an educated charlatan, wonderful. Except obviously where it comes to accoutrements. What form of hose be those?
1
What? Man, these are jeans. Dig?
2
Absolutely unacceptable.
1
Easy with the negative. It's like the director's concept, man. I swear. Some attempt at conveying Hamlet as proletariat rather than privileged. An Everyman, rather than some stuck-up, silver spoon fed brat with an Oedipal complex.
2
Yes, yes, all very progressive, but I must insist, quiet. Quiet. I wait for my cue.
1
Yes, but... man, I too, am waiting for a cue.
2
Sir—and I use the term loosely, in the absolute vaguest form possible—go away, be gone, be off, and fare the well. I need to listen for my cue.
1
Man, you are really starting to dampen my groove. And, as I said, I, too, am waiting for a cue.
2
I... I beg your pardon? A cue? You too?
1
Yes, I too, wait for a cue.
2
You do?
1
I do.
2
But who are you?
Cue was first presented by Minneapolis's Chameleon Theatre as part of their 2009 New Play Festival.
Cue was presented at the 2014 Fertile Ground Festival by PDXPlaywrights.
Click HERE to watch the performance.
Copyright 2010 M Thomas Cooper. All rights reserved.