Despite being released 12 years ago and spanning three gaming console generations, *Grand Theft Auto V* (GTA V) remains an unparalleled masterpiece of virtual simulation. The game has constructed a vast and detailed open world that continues to captivate players.
Its 80-square-kilometer map, filled with sports cars, heavy weaponry, and trigger-happy police, entices players to enact their most grandiose Hollywood crime fantasies. But Los Santos's highly realistic recreation of Los Angeles also satisfies players' relatively mundane pleasures. Players can experience various activities in the game, such as admiring the city's famous architectural landmarks, taking selfies at sunset, or cycling through the surrounding wilderness.
Playing with friends in GTA Online, the city's interactive casinos, nightclubs, and bars redefine the game as a decadent party simulator. Players can immerse themselves in these venues and enjoy the social experience of the virtual world. This diversity makes GTA V more than just a crime game; it's a virtual life platform full of possibilities.
In the new documentary *Grand Theft Hamlet*, two unemployed actors attempt to stage a live performance of a Shakespearean play within the game, pushing Los Santos's seemingly limitless possibilities to their extreme. This documentary explores new forms of artistic expression in the virtual world.
Although no real-world footage ever appears in the film—composed entirely of gameplay footage recorded from the subjects' perspectives—the backdrop of the UK's third COVID-19 lockdown is clearly discernible. Performances across the country had been shut down, and other avenues of work were scarce. Even escapism into video games left actors Sam Crane (who appeared in *Assassin's Creed: Syndicate* and starred in *Harry Potter and the Cursed Child*) and Mark Oosterveen (*The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare*) feeling jaded, yet they remained unable to tear themselves away.
After spending an evening playing slot machines and casually gunning down civilians, the two friends stumbled upon an open-air amphitheater. Mark instinctively recited a monologue from *Macbeth* on stage, and they began to consider the possibility of staging a live theatrical performance within the hyper-violent sandbox of GTA Online (where players earn points by killing other active users). Soon, the idea of organizing a production of *Hamlet* took concrete form.
Logistical considerations aside, their chosen chaotic venue was, in a way, appropriate—few Shakespearean tales have a higher body count than the tragedy that befalls the Prince of Denmark. As Sam succinctly summarized, "Shakespeare's work is full of violence. It's incredibly brutal."
*Grand Theft Hamlet* frequently captures, with humor, the volatile interpersonal interactions that arise in online multiplayer games. As Sam and Mark approached other users to advertise their actor recruitment, they were shot, crushed, and burned to ashes. Rehearsals quickly escalated into gunfights. Outside of Baz Luhrmann's films, you're unlikely to see Shakespeare recited amid so many rifles and suggestive outfits.
On the other hand, many of the interactions shared with those who expressed interest in the play had a touching sincerity. The online players included "DJPhil," a literary agent using her nephew's GTA account, who had always wanted to perform in *Hamlet*; "Turkomas," a self-proclaimed Shakespeare enthusiast with "a face for radio and a voice for pantomime"; and "ParTebMosMir," a mysterious passerby who, when encouraged, donned an alien costume and recited a passage from the Quran with emotion.
Both the play itself and the broader film are highly creative in how they repurpose game mechanics to tell their story. Physical freedom in GTA is primarily limited to running, shooting, and driving, and facial expressions don't extend beyond the real-time movement of the lips when speaking into a microphone. The game's limited suite of expressions has an inherent, endearing awkwardness, but seeing it can feel surprisingly vivid—one standout monologue scene features a player carefully pacing the stage with a knife in hand, punctuating her soliloquy with stabbing motions and custom emotes.
The play's production design is certainly unique in its Michael Bay-esque extravagance, with *Hamlet*'s Elsinore reinterpreted through Los Santos's corporate high-rises and luxury vehicles (all painstakingly purchased with in-game currency). One scene even takes place on a moving blimp and has the inherent comedic effect of watching the performers try not to fall off.
Similar to *Sing Sing* last month, *Grand Theft Hamlet* may strike some as overly conventional and simplistic in its approach to theatrical production. Sam and his co-director and wife, documentary filmmaker Pinny Grylls, don't spend much time dwelling on the fictionality of its world, and a large part of the online gaming experience can be steeped in the quiet, bizarre ennui between explosive interruptions.
At times, one can't help but wonder how much of the footage on screen was reshot or exists purely for the sake of the documentary, such as an argument between Sam and Pinny (revealing how much he had neglected things offline) or Sam's first attempt at Hamlet's iconic speech. The film has a cinematic smoothness that, ironically, takes away from the truly inhuman qualities of its world.
Nevertheless, the sheer novelty and emotional weight of *Grand Theft Hamlet* still shine through. Grylls and Crane remind us to see not only the rich, untapped potential of video games (at a time when the industry largely caters to violent escapism) but also the pure necessity of art, even in the face of seemingly insurmountable obstacles.