Most people wouldn’t exactly describe either Hamlet or Radiohead’s music as funny. Yet, in bringing them together, Radiohamlet, the Horn Gallery’s production of a jukebox musical combining the two, certainly turned the famous tragedy into a comedy. The hour-and-a-half-long show took place last Thursday and Friday nights, and was jointly conceived, directed, stage-managed and produced by Kate Grobart ’28, Anastasia Nikolic ’28 and Chelsea Rabiner-Pennette ’28.

On paper, Radiohamlet largely followed the plot of the traditional original play. However, with the exception of possibly one moment (more on that later) in this musical version of Hamlet, everything that unfolds is played for laughs or, at the very least, shock. 

A few scenes in, Ophelia (Tyler Frey ’29) appeared on stage, dropping her cross-stitch of a cartoon apple (with an equally cartoonish bite taken out of it), and Hamlet (Finn McWhirter ’26) bent to retrieve it. Their hands met as they picked it up together, then leaned in for a kiss, and Hamlet pulled away in a manner I can only describe as Bieber-esque before Ophelia sang, “I don’t want to be your friend.” McWhirter immediately crooned the next line, “I just want to be your lover” from “House of Cards.” It was in this moment that I realized the show was going to be Hamlet as I had never seen before — although I probably should have known that the moment Horatio (Maggie Scheer ’28) dapped up Hamlet a couple of scenes earlier.

The question that likely led students to pack the Horn (and maybe even drove you to read this) — how do you even insert Radiohead into Hamlet? — is a bit hard to answer. For a good chunk of the show, characters only break into song to express internal feelings, much like a soliloquy. I want to be clear: Radiohamlet, and its use of the band’s catalog, was refreshingly good. But it wasn’t until King Claudius (Silas Camp ’28) is on his knees, wrecked by his guilt over murdering his own brother, one of the most impactful scenes in the original play, that I felt the music truly elevated the play. After Cladius confesses that he can’t hope to be forgiven because he’s still reaping the rewards of his violence (“my crown, my own, ambition and my queen”), he launches into “Karma Police,” condemning himself as he sings “Karma police /  Arrest this man / He talks in maths / He buzzes like a fridge.” His mournful voice alone made this a powerful moment. Just when I thought it couldn’t get better, Hamlet entered, standing just behind the oblivious Claudius, dagger poised above the king as he weighed his decision and belting, “Karma police / I’ve given all I can / It’s not enough / I’ve given all I can / But we’re still on the payroll.” The moment came to its full emotional resonance when the two voices joined together in anger and self-hatred as they chorused, “This is what you get.”

Throughout the musical, both the “Radio” and the “Hamlet” were well done, but the music’s integration rarely seemed completely natural. Each part worked, but their seams didn’t always feel well-sewn together. When the singing stopped and the Shakespearean dialogue resumed, it was as though we were dropping out of a dream sequence.

Somewhat unexpectedly, one of the moments that best married speech and song came from a distraught Ophelia when Claudius tells her to stop obsessing over her father. She replies, “Pray let’s have no words of this, but when they ask you what it means, say you this” and then sings, “Don’t get sentimental / It always ends up drivel” from “Let Down” before continuing her rageful talk. This likely worked so well because Ophelia sings after that first comment in the original text of Hamlet, but that hardly negates its impact on the viewer in Radiohamlet. 

The show’s only real fault is that it couldn’t let Hamlet be a tragedy. Don’t get me wrong, Radiohamlet largely worked as a comedy, which made a more compelling conceit, but even the best comedies have moments of seriousness. After Claudius, Queen Gertrude (Charlie Sacha ’26), Hamlet and Laertes (Tennyson Fuhrer ’29) received the news that Ophelia has drowned, they sang, “A heart that’s full up like a landfill / A job that slowly kills you / Bruises that won’t heal / I’ll take a quiet life / A handshake of carbon monoxide” from “No Surprises.” Though no one fully laughed, even this moment couldn’t be fully serious because of the camp — I mean, come on, it’s “No Surprises” by Radiohead. The levity of it all was immediately underscored by one of the gravediggers (Finn Alexander ’26) saying, “Good day to be a gravedigger,” which was received with raucous laughter from the audience. (They went on, of course, to sing “Bones.”) Radiohamlet was good enough that this gripe isn’t even a full-fledged complaint: Rather, I wanted them to embrace seriousness at times so that an already great production could be just that much more nuanced.

Form met function in Radiohamlet at the Horn: one of the most angsty plays in the world at the angstiest place on campus. Between the excellent acting (and singing!) of the cast, creative staging and Grobart, Nikolic and Rabiner-Pennette’s innovative concept, Radiohamlet definitely earned its flowers, I just wish it would let itself be a bit sadder when those flowers wilt.