Tuesday, May 25, 2010

The evolution of the moral dilemma within the story of Amleth, Hamlet, and The Lion King

Nothing New Under the Sun:
The evolution of the moral dilemma within the story of Amleth, Hamlet, and The Lion King.

by Molly Miller

May 7 2009

What do a medieval pyromaniac, a suicidal renaissance prince, and a guilty lion have in common? They are all versions of the story of Hamlet. They all tell the story of a protagonist and his quest to find peace after the death of his father. In many ways, these three versions are very similar, yet they each have at least one distinguishing feature: the use of morals. The moral dilemma that underlines the story of Hamlet makes the story applicable throughout the ages. From the middle ages to the modern age, Hamlet’s story has shifted to connect their audiences with Shakespeare’s play. The progress from subconscious morality, to mental morality, to moral responsibility foreshadows a continued evolution of this story and a continual reliance on the brilliant classics of yesterday.

The story of a young prince seeking vengeance for crimes committed by his uncle against his father and mother did not originate in Shakespeare’s imagination. Shakespeare wrote Hamlet after reading a classic medieval story called the Histoires Tragiques which was based on an even older story about a young prince of Denmark written by Saxo Grammaticus (Shapiro, 285-286). Saxo Grammaticus’ story explored the life and actions of Amleth, prince of Denmark. It begins by explaining how Amleth’s uncle, Feng, was jealous of Amleth’s father and so killed him, taking Gerutha, Amleth’s mother, against her will to be his bride. Feng doesn’t bother to cover up his actions, moving Amleth to avenge his parents. Because Feng’s treacherous actions are not hidden in this version, there is no need for trial or confirmation of suspicion: the whole court already knows Feng is guilty. There is no question in Amleth’s mind about whether or not he should kill his uncle and reclaim the throne of Denmark. Amleth’s sense of moral duty is all based on subconscious impulses which motivate immediate action.

Amleth does not need to think about whether killing his uncle is right or wrong because in the medieval culture, heroic actions such as boldness and cunning were valued over deep thought. As Stephan Greenblatt says in his book Will in the world, “everyone in this pre-Christian world of treachery and vengeance understood that a son must avenge his father’s murder” (303). A good reputation was so important in Amleth’s time that it was even held with more value than individual lives. It was more important for Amleth to regain his parents’ honor than for him to try and keep everyone alive. This is most clearly shown by the fact that Amleth did not just kill his uncle. Amleth set all of Feng’s nobles on fire and destroyed all of them before exacting his revenge on his uncle. As the story goes, Amleth, “awakening his uncle, he told him that his nobles were perishing in the flames, and that Amleth was here, armed… and thirsting to exact the vengeance, now long overdue” (5). His revenge completed, Amleth was praised for his bravery. He had regained, and even added to, his parents’ honor and could then live in peace.

Early medieval literature is filled with stories like Saxo Grammaticus’ which, in the renaissance, were known as revenge tragedies. Renaissance writers, who were concerned with going back to classic themes and ideas, were inspired by these stories, focusing on revenge as the main movie for their protagonist’s action (Griswold, 58). William Shakespeare, one of the most prominent writers of the renaissance, was intrigued by the motive of revenge, exploring it in his play Hamlet, which is directly inspired by the story of Amleth. The basic plot is the same as the first half of Amleth’s story. Yet Shakespeare noticed how easily and thoughtlessly the characters of the medieval revenge tragedies rushed into vengeance and he questioned the wisdom of such rash actions. Instead, Shakespeare favored the idea of mental morality, giving the protagonist the ability and longing to choose his own moral path.

This is where Shakespeare splits away from Saxo Grammaticus. Instead of making Hamlet instinctively accept the call to avenge his father’s “foul and most unnatural murther” (I.v.25), Shakespeare created Hamlet as a studious and ponderous man who is very unsure about what his next move should be. Jonathan Bate describes Shakespeare’s decision to forsake the old idea that revenge is not a choice as what makes Hamlet original:

"There can be little doubt that Shakespeare’s innovation in Hamlet was to take the figure of the revenger from the old play and turn him into an intellectual, so making revenge into a moral dilemma as opposed to a practical task to be carried out through effective plotting. Hamlet’s problem is that his intelligence makes him see both sides of every question, whereas in the drama of revenge there is no place for debate and half measure" (xii).

Throughout the play, Hamlet is called to actions many times yet does not act without first profusely debating the goodness of the action. The main action Hamlet debates is, of course, whether or not to kill his uncle as the ghost demands. This is a complicated choice because Hamlet is unsure that the ghost is even real. If Hamlet only dreamt the visitation, then the killing of his uncle would be murder without a cause and completely immoral. On that basis, Hamlet should not listen to the ghost and should leave his uncle alone. Yet if the ghost is real and Hamlet does not heed its warning, he would be letting his uncle get away with murder and incestuous marriage which would go against Hamlet’s heightened sense of justice. This uncertainty remains unresolved for the majority of the play, inspiring many smaller moral dilemmas. William Smeaton, who wrote many notes about the play, found “no fewer than six subordinate plots, all intimately bearing on the main one whether or not the Prince can bring himself to avenge his father” (xxv). The Ghost’s own longing for revenge, Claudius’ manipulation of Polonius to figure out Hamlet’s feigned madness, Gertrude’s attempts to patch things up between Claudius and Hamlet, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern’s efforts to understand Hamlet’s insanity, Laertes own revenge for Polonius’ death, and Fortibras’ endeavor to take over Denmark are all sub-plots related to Hamlet’s indecisiveness.

As Hamlet ponders his dilemma a new option emerges and inspires a whole new train of thought. He contemplates suicide. Unsure whether he really can make a wise decision, Hamlet ponders the option that would remove the responsibility from his own shoulders. By taking his own life, Hamlet would be freed from having to take anyone else’s life. What saves Hamlet’s life is the fear that he would go to hell. Ironically, this is the exact opposite that keeps Hamlet from killing Claudius at the opportune moment later on in the play. Claudius is at his prayers, or so it appears, which would ensure his ticket to heaven if killed. Jonathan Bate explains the reason Hamlet did not strike Claudius then: “the code of revenge requires Hamlet not to kill Claudius because that would send him straight to heaven, which does not correspond to the fate of Old Hamlet” (xii). Old Hamlet was in purgatory because Claudius murdered him without allowing him time to confess his sins. Since his father was not given that luxury, Hamlet did not wish to give Claudius the luxury of confession and absolution. Hamlet’s revenge would be all or nothing: either a death in the physical and spiritual sense, or none at all.

Hamlet’s mental morality leads to an extensive period of inaction. In fact, most of Hamlet’s actions are only set into motion when others act first. This is especially true of the final duel between Laertes and Hamlet. The death of Claudius, the completion of the revenge, would never had occurred if Laertes and Claudius hadn’t planned the duel or poisoned the tip of Laertes’ sword and the wine Gertrude drank. Only through the forcing of his hand does Hamlet go through with the revenge. Once his hand is forced, Hamlet’s mental morals are set firmly against Claudius and all those who stand with him. Whether father of his love or friend from his youth, if they plot with Claudius, they will die with Claudius. Unfortunately, in Hamlet that is what happens. Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and Polonius all side with Claudius, forcing Hamlet to detach himself from them. To Horatio, he says “they are not near my conscience” (V.ii.58), dismissing them from friendship.

With such a harsh result of Hamlet’s mental morality, it may come as a surprise to learn that his moral dilemma inspired one of the best animated films of all time: Walt Disney’s The Lion King. According to producer Don Hahn, The Lion King was mainly inspired by two stories: Disney’s own Bambi, which inspired a coming of age aspect within the story, and Hamlet, which served as inspiration for the main plotline. In the early stages of the film it was decided that Hamlet should play a great role in the film and, as Allan Neuwirth records, “Jeffery Katzenburg (Chief Executive Officer for the Walt Disney Company) even asked them to put in as much Hamlet as they could” (149). The connection is obvious: like Hamlet, The Lion King focuses on Simba, a young prince, whose uncle kills his father and seizes the crown and the kingdom. Both princes see a vision of their deceased fathers, who tell them to “remember who you are” (The Lion King) and inspire them to fight their usurping uncles. The theme of revenge plays a significant role mainly at the end of The Lion King when Simba and his uncle, Scar, finally confront one another. Throughout the rest of the movie Simba is not, as Amleth was, itching for revenge. Neither is he, like Hamlet, drawing out long debates about whether revenge is right or wrong. Instead, Simba spends the bulk of the movie running from his past and trying to escape it.

Like Shakespeare, who took inspiration from his primary source but made it his own, the writers of The Lion King, Irene Mecchi and Jonathan Roberts, took elements of Hamlet and made it their own. Disney added a new subplot, resulting in a new view of moral responsibility. When Simba’s father, Mufassa, dies, Scar convinces Simba that he is to blame and running away is the only reasonable thing to do. That is what Simba does; eventually learning to push the guilt away by pretending the past never happened. This mindset, characterized by the phrase “hakuna matata” or “no worries” was taught to him by new friends, Timon and Pumbaa. His time with them, away from his family, teaches him to suppress all moral conscience, the opposite of Hamlet, whose conscience was perhaps too fully developed. In the end it is the old baboon, Rafiki, friend and counselor to Mufassa, who leads Simba to his father again and reminds Simba of his duty to himself and his prideland.

After Simba is reminded of his duty and assured that his father wishes him to return to Pride Rock, Simba leaves. Once in his devastated land, the king in Simba sparks to life. He is not motivated to reclaim his father’s land by the injustice done to his father, but to his pride. Simba’s morals are attuned to his princely duty, something Hamlet seems to neglect within Shakespeare’s play. Simba is mainly concerned with keeping his pride alive, rather than the death which both Amleth and Hamlet are focused on. While Amleth looks for the opportunity to kill his uncle, and Hamlet debates the killing many times over, Simba lets scar go when he has the chance to kill him. Instead of killing Scar, Simba echoes the words he had been told as a child: “Run away… Run away and never come back” (The Lion King).

The main reason Simba is more merciful than Amleth and Hamlet is because The Lion King was written for children. A lot of the themes of revenge, jealousy, and dealing with death remain the same throughout Saxo Grammaticus’ story of Amleth, Hamlet, and The Lion King, yet the reactions to the call for revenge varied drastically. From impulse morals of the medieval time, to mental morality and reasoning of the renaissance age, to modern morals based on responsibility and mercy, the moral dilemma of the protagonists have shifted and developed to fit the needs of their audiences. The ability to adapt to the changing times makes the story of Hamlet universal and beloved throughout the ages. Perhaps it will continue this trend for future generations and grace the coming world with updated versions that will continue to connect audiences with Shakespeare’s great work, Hamlet.




Works Cited

Bate, Jonathan, and Eric Rasmussen, eds. "Introduction (Revenge)." Hamlet. By William
Shakespeare. Random House, inc, 2008. Xii.

Grammaticus, Saxo. “Amleth.” Gesta Danorum. Trans. Oliver Elton as The Nine Books of the
Danish History of Saxo Grammaticus. New York: Norroena, 1905. Prt. As The Danish
History, ed. Douglas B. Killings. 31 March 2009. http://omacl.org/DanishHistory/.

Greenblatt, Stephen. "Speaking With The Dead." Will in the world how Shakespeare became
Shakespeare. New York: W.W. Norton, 2004. 303.

Griswold, Wendy. "Characteristics of Revenge Tragedy." Renaissance revivals city comedy and
revenge tragedy in the London theatre, 1576-1980. Chicago: University of Chicago P,
1986. 58.

Hahn, Don, prod. “The Story Journey.” Walt Disney’s The Lion King. DVD. Dir. Roger Allers
and Rob Minkoff. Perf. James Earl Jones, Jonathan Taylor Thomas, Jeremy Irons, Matthew Broderick, Nathan Lane, and Rowan Atkinson. Buena Vista Pictures. 1994.

Neuwirth, Allan. "But What I Really Wanna Do Is..." Makin' toons inside the most popular
animated TV shows and movies. New York: Allworth P, 2003. 149.

Shakespeare, William. Hamlet (Case Studies in Contemporary Criticism). Boston: Bedford/St.
Martin's, 1993.

Shapiro, James S. "Essays and Soliloquies." Year in the life of William Shakespeare. New York:
HarperCollins, 2005. 285-86.

Smeaton, William Henry Oliphant. "Introduction." Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. By William
Shakespeare. Holt, 1904. Xxv.

The Lion King. DVD. Dir. Roger Allers and Rob Minkoff. Perf. James Earl Jones, Jonathan
Taylor Thomas, Jeremy Irons, Matthew Broderick, Nathan Lane, and Rowan Atkinson.
Buena Vista Pictures. 1994.

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