To be, or not to be: that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; No more; and by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause: there's the respect That makes calamity of so long life; For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, The insolence of office and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pith and moment With this regard their currents turn awry, And lose the name of action. - Soft you now! The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons Be all my sins remember'd.
Branagh's interpretation of this meditation is amiss... I've not seen this movie adaptation of Hamlet but, the director oddly interprets this scene of the play. Firstly, the mirror and Hamlet's delivery of this soliloquy before his own reflection in a mirror seems rather self-indulgent... narcissistic... it's played as if he's plotting rather than a moment of inner revelation and contemplation. His cadences give a very different almost sinister sensibility to the meaning of the words. Did not care for this rendition of this sublime meditation on existential quandary.
The Director is the Actor. This is Branagh interpretation as both. You should watch the whole performance, it's the full work, not one word cut, over 4 hours, and it's beautiful from first to last. I won't try to sell you, I just ask you, as a lover of the bard's pen, to try Branagh interpretation as it is, and see the whole, it's a masterpiece.
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action. - Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.
thanks for posting this! i was looking for it!
Branagh's interpretation of this meditation is amiss... I've not seen this movie adaptation of Hamlet but, the director oddly interprets this scene of the play. Firstly, the mirror and Hamlet's delivery of this soliloquy before his own reflection in a mirror seems rather self-indulgent... narcissistic... it's played as if he's plotting rather than a moment of inner revelation and contemplation. His cadences give a very different almost sinister sensibility to the meaning of the words. Did not care for this rendition of this sublime meditation on existential quandary.
The Director is the Actor. This is Branagh interpretation as both. You should watch the whole performance, it's the full work, not one word cut, over 4 hours, and it's beautiful from first to last. I won't try to sell you, I just ask you, as a lover of the bard's pen, to try Branagh interpretation as it is, and see the whole, it's a masterpiece.
Who is watching this video because of English 12 in OGHS?
Me I’m looking for interpretations lol