Sofia’s review published on Letterboxd:
The tragedy of a man who could not make up his mind, Hamlet is tale preoccupied with the anguish of indecision, steeped in a cold confusion, suffused with darkness, echoes and hollow ignorance. Spectral figures wander on stone floors, uneasy spirits, phantasmic presences. Throw to earth this unprevailing woe. Choking on a stubborn despair, Hamlet trundles passively on stone floors, head bowed, steeped in misery. O that this too solid flesh would melt... how weary, stale, flat, unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world.
Visions of steep staircases intrude and invade, conjuring thoughts of a man teetering on the edge— of sanity, of stability, of war and bloodshed. Hamlet is a man suspended before the precipice, existing on the interplay between what is and what may be. To him, death is a consummation devoutly to be wished... he watches as life crawls passed, sees the people being shuffled off this mortal coil. He merely grunts and sweats under a weary life. And thus conscience death makes cowards of us all.
With a diseased wit he is forced to strut and fret his hour upon the stage; untethered, unhinged, illustrating a tragic disconnect— from self and from the world. And his love, Ophelia, is propelled into the same crazed fate. Delirious with grief, she sings, flowers wilting in her hair. That haunting melody continues, even as she wades into the waters, to sleep no more.
Hell itself breathes out contagion to this world.