It seems almost heretical to say over fifty years after Olivier's Oscar-winning film has passed indisputably into the realm of "classic," but the fact of the matter is that this is a badly butchered and only tolerably performed adaptation of Shakespeare's play. Olivier and text editor Alan Dent cut the script to the bone, eliminating not only the character of Fortinbras (who is a common casualty of the editor's pen), but Rosencrantz and Guildestern (who are indispensable to depicting a complete version of the story).
Most of the acting is forgettable, with only Academy Award nominated Jean Simmons making any impact as the tragic Ophelia. Olivier is frankly wooden in the role (his 1937 stage performance was universally panned), making one realize that Hamlet was never really his part and that posterity would have been better served if he's left this play alone and instead filmed one of his stage successes such as Macbeth or Titus Andronicus.
Olivier's success comes as a director rather than an actor, depicting Elsinore as a gloomy and forbidding haunted castle. The drum representing the ghost's heartbeat is a masterfully effective device and the look of the film can only be described as wonderfully Shakespearean.
While the virtues of the film are spotty, one scene must surely be ranked as among the greatest ever committed to celluloid: the duel between Hamlet and Laertes in Act V. It is hard to imagine any other production (stage or film) competing the excitement or tension of this compelling action, and Olivier's celebrated leap from a high tower to finally do away with Claudius is worthy of every platitude it has received. (Compare this to the ludicrous display of Kenneth Branagh throwing a magic rapier from across the palace to hit a super hero's bulls-eye into Claudius' heart in the vulgar and miscast 1996 film and you'll see what I mean.) Olivier's "Hamlet" was an important milestone in it's day, but is badly dated and does not stand up well to more recent productions such as Derek Jacobi's 1978 BBC production with the pre-Star Trek Patrick Stewart as a magnificent Claudius (in my mind the definitive screen "Hamlet") or the filmed record of the John Gielgud/Richard Burton 1964 Broadway production (which is truer to the play's theatrical roots). Olivier's film is indeed a classic, but it brings to mind Mark Twain's definition of the word: "a book that someone praises but doesn't read."
Most of the acting is forgettable, with only Academy Award nominated Jean Simmons making any impact as the tragic Ophelia. Olivier is frankly wooden in the role (his 1937 stage performance was universally panned), making one realize that Hamlet was never really his part and that posterity would have been better served if he's left this play alone and instead filmed one of his stage successes such as Macbeth or Titus Andronicus.
Olivier's success comes as a director rather than an actor, depicting Elsinore as a gloomy and forbidding haunted castle. The drum representing the ghost's heartbeat is a masterfully effective device and the look of the film can only be described as wonderfully Shakespearean.
While the virtues of the film are spotty, one scene must surely be ranked as among the greatest ever committed to celluloid: the duel between Hamlet and Laertes in Act V. It is hard to imagine any other production (stage or film) competing the excitement or tension of this compelling action, and Olivier's celebrated leap from a high tower to finally do away with Claudius is worthy of every platitude it has received. (Compare this to the ludicrous display of Kenneth Branagh throwing a magic rapier from across the palace to hit a super hero's bulls-eye into Claudius' heart in the vulgar and miscast 1996 film and you'll see what I mean.) Olivier's "Hamlet" was an important milestone in it's day, but is badly dated and does not stand up well to more recent productions such as Derek Jacobi's 1978 BBC production with the pre-Star Trek Patrick Stewart as a magnificent Claudius (in my mind the definitive screen "Hamlet") or the filmed record of the John Gielgud/Richard Burton 1964 Broadway production (which is truer to the play's theatrical roots). Olivier's film is indeed a classic, but it brings to mind Mark Twain's definition of the word: "a book that someone praises but doesn't read."