‘To be or not to be?’ (Back where it should be) – NT Live: Hamlet Review

So marks the midpoint of beloved Brit, Sherlock Holmes as the titular Hamlet in sold out screens (three, within the Barbican itself) around England and the world, and of course the auditorium in question.

Let it firstly be said that you should, by all means, attempt to attend this immense yet tender, powerful, visually and aurally stunning production from the bosom of one Lyndsey Turner. It may seem all too easy to exalt a “mainstream” production with a “movie star” from the comfortability of cinema as somewhat removed from “real” theatre – to those I say: ‘the lady doth protest too much, methinks’.

As with the majority of modern Shakespeare adaptations the soldiers have AR15’s and Hamlet at times is allowed to career around Elsinore apart from himself in Adidas trainers, yet, Turner’s production neatly sidesteps either an archaic or modernist setting. The courtly costumes courtesy of Katrina Lindsay serve to keep the tangibility of the castle intact, however.

As for the innovation we as audiences have come to expect, but continue to be astounded by, Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui and Bret Yount have gracefully transplanted young Hamlet’s soliloquies as split-second affairs whereby the ensemble continue business in slow-mo in the dimness of a flickering blue film reel light. The fencing betwixt Laertes (Kobna Holdbrook-Smith) and the Prince of Denmark is frankly, impressive.

In the supporting cast the excellent Cumberbatch, whose mastery of the rhythms and cadence of Hamlet from frantic urgency to comic tripping is as pleasing to hear as to watch, finds his matches in the likes of the solid Ciarán Hinds (Claudius), the humorous Karl Johnson and, most notably, Sian Brooke (Ophelia). For me, despite the worthy and more than capable efforts of Cumberbatch as the Hamlet, while racked with grief, sees himself as a weak and inactive revenger in the midst of strong men; Brooke steals the show. Her erratic and bedraggled performance (helped by the accent of costumes) and appearance, fluctuating from sheer confusion as to Hamlet’s affections and grief and removal from her Father’s fate, appeared to me, to be the real battle of mental health and inner demons in vast Elsinore. As she lays all remembrance of Hamlet and Polonius to rest and departs forever, Brooke created such moments of sheer magnetism and insight into this fragile character rent unspeakably from sanity and love that to breathe was as insult to her art (they’ve got me talking like it now).

Lastly, go see it for the set – whereby Es Devlin’s immense interior-as-exterior (whereby balconies serve as parapets and the banquet hall a graveyard) yet dark and clandestine corridors compliment the material perfectly. Thusly, the debris that blows in just before the interval: opening the banquet hall doors to the return of Laertes and the departure of Ophelia upstage; littering the stage with dirt and wood-chippings; and breaking all manner of furniture truly signifies that ruin is come to Elsinore. Support the refugees of the exodus from Syria (a brief, heartfelt speech post-performance by the recent Father himself, Cumberbatch) at: www.savethechildren.org.uk/hamlet