by Imogen O'Rourke, Plays And Players, April 1995

Ever since Damian Lewis swatted a fly in the middle of his "What a piece of work is man" speech, an act of irreverence from such a precociously young Hamlet, which neatly captured the vanity of all human action, he has been earmarked by the critics to be a star.

From a recklessly dangerous Hamlet in Tim Piggot Smith's production at the Regent's Park Open Air Theatre, to Romeo at the Birmingham Rep, Horace in Molière's School For Wives and a psycho in Rope, Lewis at age 23 is already cutting a path for himself across the "fire fretted dome".

He was tipped as the next Ralph Fiennes/Hugh Grant 1995 by The New York Times who admired his "flaming red hair" and "noble cheekbones" besides other aspects of his Scots/Welsh descendancy. Now he is playing Hamlet again in Jonathan Kent's production which opened at the Hackney Empire at the end of February, this time as Laertes, a handsome foil to Ralph Fiennes' Hamlet. He is the honourable hooligan who comes back in the second act to avenge the death of his sister Ophelia -- and full of bluster and fury he is the perfect antithesis of Fiennes' sulky, neurotic Hamlet -- while his fierce filial loyalty adds a touching emotion to a production noticeably lacking in it.

The duel scene, choreographed by the man on fights, William Holt, becomes the highlight of this production, with the two young actors battling it out man to man over Ophelia's grave, fighting over who can rant and rave the loudest. At certain moments Lewis appears in danger of bursting out of this cameo role.

Lewis has been difficult to get hold of as he spends most of his free time fencing with Ralph (they break about three swords a session). I was lucky to catch him out of doublet and hose at his local, on a mid-week wassail. He was disputing a point with a rather orally-disadvantaged bystander, when I found him, talking about Cantona. He was dressed in a floor length sheepskin with straggly copper hair, blue eyes and a week's stubble and looked more like Rogue Male than NYT's description of him as a Rothenstein picture.

Eton-Educated

Lewis has none of his imperious stage airs in life, but a languid demeanor and charm that they say comes from growing up amongst the rich and famous at Eton, where he was primed for thespian success at an early age. Lewis is the first to admit that he's been "incredibly lucky" but by that he means in doing so well at Guildhall, where "everyone starts on the same footing and if you're good you just hope you get noticed."

He was good and he got noticed by top agent Pippa Markham, playing the lead in League Of Youth, in his final year. He never had to finish his diploma.

Lewis agrees that he has a talent for playing angry young men; he grins, "I play adolescents very well." So isn't he perfectly cast as Laertes? "It's not really a character an actor can get his teeth into -- I have never seen a sympathetic Laertes," he admits in private, although on stage, he busts his guts out.

Lewis once confessed he was obsessed with the character of Hamlet. I wondered whether it was difficult now playing his rival, whether he got attacks of the old jealousy pangs. He reacted very diplomatically: "I do get moments of possessiveness when I think, 'Now hang on a minute; I wouldn't play it like that.' But Ralph is brilliant; he's a much more experienced verse speaker than I am, and I'm learning a lot from him. Ralph's a bit older than me; if I played Hamlet again in 10 years time I would do it very differently from before."

Despite the huge critical hype around Hamlet, Lewis will not be reading any of the reviews until after the show is over: "I used to think I was immune to critics, but I was wrong. I don't read any of them now because if you can't believe the bad ones how can you believe the good ones," he says and remembers, "Once when I was playing Romeo's death scene, a man stood up and cheered. I felt like getting up again and saying, 'You bastard, do you know how much time I've put into this?'"

Michael Billington has called Lewis a "fine classical actor," maybe because, he surmises, "I treat acting as an ongoing English Literature exercise, but I'm not happy with the label. Why should a classical actor be distinguished from a stand-up comedian? He must have the same rapport with his audience and his enthusiasm must be just as infectious."

In fact one of Lewis' personal greats was taking part in Rik Mayall's comedy show Micky Love. He's the kind of guy that shrinks from the idea of having attributable influences: "Anthony Hopkins has had a great effect on me, but then so has Stan Laurel, while I think Gary Glitter's the greatest showman of all time."

At the same time he has an idealistic approach to his own acting, believing, "Acting is a representation of honesty and truth; you can't get up there and bluff in performance. You have to become that person."

The show is going to Broadway this month, and Lewis is unequivocal about the chance to make it big abroad like Fiennes did a year ago: "I say yes, yes and yes to Broadway. I'm not a career obsessive, but the chance to live in New York at this stage in my life is massive; after all, the success of the actor is contained in the baggage of his personal experiences."

Another Hugh Grant?

With his aristocratic education, it's not difficult to see him becoming another Hugh Grant, but there's always the danger with his "Celtic look" he'll end up playing a Scottish chieftain in an epic for nostalgic American tourists. "I'm not afraid of type casting and what I'd really like to do is play a variety of roles like Daniel Day Lewis," he says, but fears, "They wouldn't want a pale, red-headed Indian in Last Of The Mohicans for example."

But is the shocking red hair an asset or a disadvantage? Lewis reacts as if it's the first time he's ever thought about it. "I don't think I'll come across any real discrimination. There was one critic who said of my psycho role in Rope that I couldn't hurt a fly. I suspect he was colourist." He has already turned down one film contract but whether or not he stays in the theatre is dependent on his financial circumstances. "At the moment I don't have to make financial choices, so I can make artistic ones, which is great, but it won't last. As an actor you are your own businessman," he says.

He will be auditioning for the RSC again, having turned down his place last year because he was too busy. He has a burning desire to play Macbeth. "I'd like to stay in England," he says, "because we have the healthiest theatre in the world and we're envied for it, but we have to keep it strong; underfunding could kill it. Film and TV are passive entertainment -- there's nothing like the theatre to challenge the status quo."

And with that he bursts into "Well she goes out with other guys," as Run Around Sue comes on the jukebox. He's pretty good, too. "I guess I'm just a frustrated rockstar," he jokes.

Lewis is already building up a small fan club with a Danish girl who sends him watches and a mysterious sonnet-writer. He is not bothered at all about the possibility of becoming a sex symbol; he simply strokes his eyebrows and says with a Hollywood drawl, "My vanity leaps up instinctively."

Review ...
Hamlet

by Peter Charles, Plays And Players, April 1995

At the end of February, it was announced that Sir Christopher Hogg was succeeding Lady Soames when she retires as Chairman of the Royal National Theatre this summer. Let us hope that by the time this appears, he will have made his way to the Hackney Empire to see the Almeida production of Hamlet, which succeeds as well in that vast auditorium as other productions have triumphed in the smaller space at the Almeida. The problem facing Sir Christopher is the appointment of a successor to Richard Eyre, Director of the Royal National. Sadly, Nicholas Hytner -- the most obvious choice -- has announced his intention of devoting himself mainly to films in the future. In this event, strong contenders for the vacancy should be Ian McDairmid and Jonathan Kent who, since 1990, have jointly guided the fortunes of the Almeida Theatre with consistency, integrity and flair. In my opinion, it is to these two men the impending vacancy should be offered. Following Olivier, Hall and Eyre is a challenge which, in lesser hands, might rank as the poisoned chalice of the English Theatre.

Jonathan Kent's production of possibly our greatest and certainly our most difficult classic offers many challenges, but Mr. Kent's production unfolds so powerfully -- and with such pace -- that never for a second does the audience lose interest. Mr. Kent is a master-craftsman, aided and abetted by the impressively sombre but magnificent spaciousness of Elsinore created by Peter J. Davison, the brilliantly appropriate Edwardian costumes of James Acheson and Mark Henderson's splendid lighting, especially noticeable in the scenes when the Ghost walks. However, a special word of approbation is due to William Hobbs, our foremost fight director, whose sequences always keep one hovering on the edge of one's seat and the particularly inventive casting of Joyce Nettles, so long the doyenne of the Casting Department of the RSC as well as the Sound of John A. Leonard for on the press night I found every word audible, though I knew people attending early performances experienced some difficulty.

But there is no play without the Prince and having first seen Gielgud when I was a child in 1944 (at an age when he was too old to play the moody Dane) I have never found Sir John bettered. He was the Prince of Denmark whose wonderful presence, great beauty and clarity of intellectual gifts of such order that every changing thought was mirrored in his countenance. For me this was the definitive Hamlet, just as Olivier's Othello, Dame Edith's Nurse and Ashcroft's Juliet have never ceased to tower over every other interpretation. Ralph Fiennes, the latest in a line of recent Hamlets (Alan Cumming's at the Donmar in 1993 and Stephen Dillane's a few months ago at the newly named Gielgud Theatre) gives an exciting -- and often beautifully spoken -- performance. However, some touches -- particularly the masked intrusion when Claudius is at his prayers and taking "To be or not to be" at breakneck speed -- whilst logical enough somehow jarred. The encounters with the Ghost, however, and the scene in Gertrude's chamber have rarely been bettered.

One definitive performance was Francesca Annis' wonderfully controlled and supremely elegant Gertrude. She spoke beautifully, was the perfect -- yet sensual -- First Lady of Elsinore and her breakdown, when she realises her first husband was murdered, is likely to be the finest moment of acting this year. She was greatly complemented by Peter Eyre's middle-aged Polonius -- an intelligent man in no way the fool so many actors show when depicting the man who is virtually Prime Minster of Denmark. James Laurenson's Claudius was splendidly remoreseless -- making us understood why he coveted his brother's throne as well as lusting after his Queen. His reaction when he sees Gertrude drink from the poisoned cup more than conveys that life is no longer important to him. The Ophelia of Tara Fitzgerald began well, but for me the Mad Scene laked the poignancy and distraught behaviour emanating from Rosemary Harris in the role when the RNT opened at the Old Vic in 1963. But there never has been a perfect production of this classic and, if my memory serves me, even the Gielgud presentation in 1944 had several leading roles less than happily cast.

Here, however, was the most brilliant story of revenge in the English language and the Almeida team have made a magnificent attempt to tackle the impossible.

By William Shakespeare

Director: Jonathan Kent
Set Designer: Peter J. Davison
Costume Designer: James Acheson
Lighting Designer: Mark Henderson
Fight Director: William Hobbs
Sound Designer: John A. Leonard
Music: Jonathan Dove

Francesco/Lucianus: Gilly Gilchrist
Barnardo: Colin Mace
Horatio: Paterson Joseph
Marcellus/Captain: Terence McGinty
Ghost/Player King/Gravedigger: Terence Rigby
Hamlet: Ralph Fiennes
Laertes: Damian Lewis
Claudius: James Laurenson
Gertrude: Francesca Annis
Polonius: Peter Eyre
Ophelia: Tara Fitzgerald
Reynaldo: David Melville
Rosencrantz: James Sinclair Wallace
Guildenstern: Nicholas Rowe
Prologue/Gentleman: Peter Helmer
Player Queen: Caroline Harris
Fortinbras: Rupert Penry-Jones
Priest: Gordon Lansford-Rowe
Osric: Nicholas Palliser
Members of the Court: Richard Ashcroft, Lara Bobroff, Peter Carr James Langton, Andrew Scarborough