It’s commonly said that one of the flaws contributing to Hamlet’s downfall is his inability to act. Had he killed King Claudius early on, the conflict would’ve been quickly wrapped up, and things probably wouldn’t have spiraled out of control. Yet this “tragic flaw” is uncharacteristic for a Shakespeare play. In many other Shakespearean works, characters face the opposite problem: they don’t exercise enough caution, and they make decisions before they have all the facts.
(Romeo and Juliet, Macbeth, and Othello spoilers for this paragraph.) In Romeo and Juliet, Romeo acts too quickly and kills himself under the false impression that Juliet is dead; if he’d waited, he would have discovered the truth. Macbeth hastily kills King Duncan because Lady Macbeth doesn’t give him time to consider whether this is actually a good idea. Othello murders his innocent wife without sufficient evidence that she’s cheating on him. Hamlet is the perfect character to star in these stories because he wouldn’t make those mistakes, but he ironically happens to be in a rare situation that requires a risk-taker, not someone to think things through.
With all this talk of other Shakespearean plays, the prevalence of theatre in Hamlet is not to be overlooked. Beginning in Act 2 Scene 2, a troupe of actors known as the Players arrive to cheer Hamlet up, and it’s revealed that Hamlet knows them well. He’s also well-versed in theatrical performances, which shows when he discusses a given play’s general reception, number of performances, comments from critics, and even details from his favorite scene with such specificity that he can recite thirteen lines word-for-word and impress Polonius with his good accent. He clearly cares a lot about actors, considering his emphasis on treating them with honor and dignity. He appreciates their art, admiring the Player’s emotional performance. He spends an entire monologue giving acting advice. And he knows exactly which play will reveal Claudius’ guilt: The Murder of Gonzago.
Hamlet’s love for theatre is no coincidence. When we read or watch plays, we learn from them: verify your facts before taking action. Be cautious and reasoned. “Why’d Romeo have to kill himself right after finding out that Juliet was dead?” we ask. And, “Othello killed Desdemona with minimal evidence that she was cheating on him. He basically just took Iago’s word for it.” If you’ve learned anything from Shakespeare’s tragedies, hopefully you won’t make the same mistakes that they did.
Well, Hamlet has learned a lot from theatre, no doubt including a few plays similar to these. And he’s not about to make the mistakes of his predecessors. He deliberately avoids impulsiveness by thinking carefully before killing any kings and getting definite evidence before taking action. Iago has already established that Shakespearean protagonists can’t trust even their closest friends, so why should Hamlet trust a spirit taking the shape of his father, especially in a setting where “the devil hath power to assume a pleasing shape”? Why should he kill someone just because a spirit tells him to? He has good reason to be afraid of acting too quickly. Yet the irony of Hamlet is that the one time someone decides to be cautious, the distrusted character—in this case, Claudius—really is guilty. Hamlet’s foresight backfires.
But caution isn’t the only trait that makes Hamlet perfect for any other Shakespearean tragedy besides Hamlet. He also possesses incredible self-awareness: he recognizes his flaws and then works to fix them, which is more than most Shakespearean protagonists can say. “How did Macbeth not realize that he was going way overboard with his ambition?” you might yell at your pages. “Iago straight-up warns Othello to beware of jealousy, the green-eyed monster, and the guy still ends up controlled by jealousy.” Yeah, characters can be pretty oblivious sometimes.
But Hamlet, again, is familiar with plays. He knows about tragic flaws and can recognize his own; he realizes that he’s too hesitant and decides to start thinking on his feet. In a different Shakespearean play, this ability to recognize one’s shortcomings and learn from them would have been lifesaving. Yet in Hamlet, when our protagonist tries to fix himself by making quicker decisions, he ends up accidentally killing Polonius after a spur-of-the-moment choice to stab the spy behind the curtain—thus causing everything to fall apart. The guy just can’t catch a break. First he’s being too cautious when he needs to be decisive, then he’s being too decisive when he needs to be cautious.
Hamlet’s ultimate problem is that he’s adapted to the wrong situation. It’s like natural selection. You can be perfectly adapted for the tundra, but you’ll still die in the desert. Hamlet’s cautious personality would be perfect for another Shakespearean story, but that doesn’t mean he’ll survive in this one. No virtue can be applied universally. Even when Hamlet strives for self-improvement and becomes more decisive, it turns out that like cautiousness, decisiveness also doesn’t work in every situation. So in Hamlet’s efforts to avoid a tragic fate like the ones he’s seen performed countless times, he finds that he still can’t escape his demise. The narrative twists his virtues against him. Because, as our prince has already figured out, Hamlet is a tragedy.
We like to believe that we’re smarter than Romeo and Juliet, and Othello, and whatever other characters accidentally further their own downfall. We’d think things through. We wouldn’t fall for lies. We’d learn from our flaws. But would that necessarily save us?
Sometimes, even when you do everything right, the world just finds another way to spite you. Maybe that’s the biggest tragedy of all.
Check out parts two and three of my Hamlet series:
Hamlet and Horatio Are In Love
The Divergence Between Hamlet and Ophelia