Hamlet, Theatre Review. R.S.C., Stratford-Upon-Avon.

Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating * * *

Cast: Paapa Essiedu, Clarence Smith, Cyril Nri, Natalie Simpson, Hiran Abeysekera, Doreene Blackstock, Eke Chukwu, James Cooney, Bethan Cullinane, Kevin N. Golding, Marcus Griffiths, Marieme Diouf, Romayne Andrews, Byron Mondahl, Tanya Moodie, Theo Ogundipe, Ewart James Walters, Temi Wilkey.

The king is dead, a usurper and a murderer sits on the throne and the man who would be king sits and procrastinates to the point of lethargy and inaction; hardly the calling card for one of the greatest plays in the English language to be treated, the single red rose that was visible at the local church in front of Shakespeare’s stone perhaps wilting under the pressure of the enormous task undertaken by the R.S.C. as Hamlet once more roared into Stratford-Upon-Avon.

It is one thing to be inventive, to strike a slightly different path or perceived action within the play, it is quite another to be bold, to have the courage to be daring and push a boundary as far as it wishes to go. Simon Godwin’s take on Hamlet is certainly self assured, it finds valiant control in each aspect of the production, however, taking on the mantle of valiant heart does not mean that the play will insist itself upon the audience and whilst colourful, vibrant with the use of paint and intriguing enough to be quaint, the production never allowed itself beyond obvious limitations.

Madness is something that is supposed to be infectious, to be lively and be explored within the full range of the actor’s capacity; it is the sinking down to of depths that Hamlet almost aspires to as he plays his game out to the bitter end and to which those around him suffer for his inaction and burden; the role of Ophelia is paramount to this and yet there is no warmth to be found in the relationship of the two celebrated Shakespearean roles, if love be protested then it needs to be anarchic and giving as well as fundamentally damaging.

In the role of Polonius Cyril Nyi excelled, a truly inspiring portrayal which when on the stage brought light and crystal clear language to the audience; the understated dramatic encounter of the man of a thousand words and none of them useful was to be congratulated and praised; a part that Cyril Nyi was born to play and one that would see him surely elevated to the top, a position many will find difficult to surpass.

In this, the 400th anniversary of the greatest writer in the English language’s death, it seems such a pity that more could not be made of one of the illustrious plays in the entire folio, interesting yes but not distinguished, enjoyable but not brave; this was a Hamlet that arguably was disappointing in some regards as it was confident and forward in others. The spectacle was not daring enough.

Ian D. Hall