Hamlet's Dream Stage and the Scalpers' Reckoning
Calling it like the movie Hamlet 2 somehow fell short of capturing the mystery of the magic. It was... like a dream. Right before my eyes, the actors performed, yet the surrounding environment shifted from moment to moment, as if the entire world existed solely for those actors, perfectly in sync with them. It was utterly bizarre.
This performance was purely theatrical for that reason. In the instant Hamlet began his soliloquy, even standing amid the other actors, he was depicted as if praying alone. As though an invisible wall stood between him and the rest, he soliloquized in utter solitude. Not even another world conjured by magic could pull the actor into it.
the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune]
This was the difference between theater and film. In a movie, every character belongs to and exists within that world, but a theater actor belongs only to the play. There is no world. If only the actor and the script exist, then any place can become a stage. Thus, theater without a script is nothing at all—no matter how dazzling the magic.
That was the regret I'd felt watching the Alice's Adventures in Wonderland play. The moment I realized its true nature, Hamlet ended his soliloquy and cried out to Ophelia.
"—Miss, if you're praying, pray for my sins as well!"
I was completely immersed in this 'theater.' When I snapped out of it, the entire audience was on their feet, applauding the actors. I joined in too.
Hamlet was performed in most theaters across the Empire. The key difference from the novel was that no matter how many theaters staged it, only a select few who could snag tickets got to see it.
As a result, the play Hamlet itself became a marker of high culture. Nobles, merchants, and the wealthy spared no expense to see it.
"It's so tragic... I got so swept up that I've seen it three times already. Each viewing reveals something new... Homerus truly is a genius!"
"Hehe, I've seen it five times. But do you know? There are actually two versions of the Hamlet script."
"What?"
The very fact of having seen Hamlet multiple times became a symbol of wealth and status. In that process, word spread of two distinct quarto editions of Hamlet, spurring even more repeat viewings.
"They say he wrote it with two of his students! They're called the Camel Quarto and the Plummer Quarto, named after the students."
"Camel as in the student who co-wrote Alice's Adventures in Wonderland?"
Kindersley Publishing tried to cool the frenzy by officially publishing the Hamlet script, but it had little effect. If anything, it only amplified readers' burning desire to see the actual 'theater.'
And wherever there's human desire, there are always those who turn it into profit.
"Tickets! Gimme tickets! How much?"
"Tsk, I had to work hard to get these... What's your max offer?"
The scalpers went wild.
"Haha! Stutter-boy! Look at these overwhelming audience ratings!"
"I-it's not, uh, overwhelming...? It's just a 3% difference.... A-and for the script reviews, I, I actually won...?"
"Tch, critics are just worthless fools who trash even Homerus's works. Their opinions mean nothing."
"B-but I won...?"
"Homerus himself said to let the audience judge, so it's my victory!"
"L-look at this. The Plummer Quarto of Hamlet lacks depth, full of exaggerated lines... The Camel Quarto is the pinnacle of Homerus's art...."
"Critic reviews don't matter!"
The two authors of Hamlet, Rolls Camel and Ian Plummer, were like dogs and cats. Ian Plummer, filled with aristocratic pride, was actually closer to a populist artist when it came to his art. When revising Hamlet's dialogue, he agonized over intuitive, easy-to-hear lines that maximized audience appeal.
The stutterer Rolls Camel was the classic type of artist trapped in her own world. When revising dialogue, she dove into her artistic fervor, striving for the newest, most beautiful phrasing possible.
So they couldn't help but growl at each other. They were perfect opposites.
"Homerus! What do you think? I got higher audience scores, so it's my win, right?!"
"M-my lines are better, right? Homerus...?"
"Uh, can't we just call it a tie? Both were really great. Why force a winner...?"
"What? But you said—"
"We published both to let people see their strengths and get reactions. Honestly, it's fun watching people's responses, isn't it?"
I had no intention of judging which was better. I wasn't qualified to begin with, and more importantly, I lacked the ability. To me, both were incredibly fun. If more literature meant more enjoyment, that was enough for me.
"Ian Plummer takes the audience win, Rolls Camel takes the critics. That should suffice, right?"
"...Understood."
Ian Plummer didn't seem convinced, but whatever.
"Hmm, Ian. Have you read the novel The Count of Monte Cristo?"
"Ah, yes. Of course—I had to, since it stole first place from us."
"Fun, right?"
"...Yes."
"More fun than my novels?"
"N-no, that's not it. It's full of internal inconsistencies and terrible historical accuracy."
"But it's fun?"
"......"
"Lots of readers say The Count of Monte Cristo is more fun than my books. Does that mean I lost to the author Herodotus?"
"...No."
"Right?"
"...Yes."
In truth, Herodotus was just another of my pen names, but Ian Plummer didn't know that. So this analogy would work.
"It's good to have competitive spirit, but try not to obsess over results or wins and losses. Literature is too beautiful to divide into victors and losers, don't you think?"
"Yes. You're right."
"That said, you did win the audience scores, so how about this?"
"......"
"When you publish a solo work, I'll write a recommendation for it."
"...!!!"
It wasn't some grand privilege. I wasn't stingy with recommendations anyway—I'd already written one for Rolls Camel's long fairy tale. In the end, what she got and what he'd get were the same.
"Th-thank you! I'll work hard!"
But these things are all about the show. Ian Plummer was so moved he started stuttering himself. It was a bit funny, considering he always called Camel "stutterer."
I nodded appropriately and continued.
"Anyway, on to Hamlet. Have you heard about the scalpers gouging prices off the play lately?"
"Ah, yes. Merchants are all like that—shameless, seeing art as just a money pit. Beastkin have innate flaws, but human merchants are worse for exploiting their own kind."
Ian Plummer ranted against merchants. With his father a council noble, he clearly despised their monopolies and profiteering.
I didn't share his harsh view of merchants in general... but scalpers were different. They were parasites devouring the arts.
"Merchants chasing profit is natural, but using my work to hold audiences hostage for extortionate markups is hard to stomach. Access to culture should be fair for everyone."
"Well said!"
It was fine for the wealthy to buy tickets at premium from those who'd snagged them. You couldn't blame someone for prioritizing money over culture. But scalpers hoarded supply, robbing even the slim chance of a poor person luckily seeing the show. The outcome might not be equal, but opportunity should be.
"We lack legal grounds to punish scalpers now, so I'm thinking of adding a preface warning against 'scalping' when we publish the script. Since it's your work too, I'd like your opinions."
I planned to sway public opinion the same way I had with Don Quixote Part 2.
But at my words, Ian Plummer suddenly grinned triumphantly and raised his voice.
"Leave that to me!"
"Pardon?"
"My father is Viscount Plummer. Leader of the conservative bloc in the House of Nobles. We can push a law through quick."
"Ah."
"Just write a statement on 'scalping,' Homerus, and I'll handle the rest—clean public opinion included. Haha!"
"Aigoo, here for Hamlet tickets, eh? How much you looking to spend? Popularity's through the roof—gotta be a hefty sum to make it worth it...."
"Arrest them all."
"Yes, sir!"
"Wh-what? H-hey! Let go! Do you know who I am?!"
"Hah, I want to ask—what gave you the gall to profiteer off his work...."
One week. That was all it took to wipe out the scalpers infesting the Empire's cultural scene.