Hamlet RSC 2026 Tour - Review

★★★☆☆

There’s something undeniably interesting about watching the Royal Shakespeare Company take on Hamlet with a concept this bold. Director Rupert Goold relocates the entire play onto the deck of the Titanic, a literal ship of state heading straight towards inevitable disaster. It’s a striking idea, no doubt about it. But as the evening unfolds, you can’t help but wonder… is this a stroke of theatrical genius, or are we starting to overthink how to stage Shakespeare?

Ralph Davis as Hamlet. Photo Credit: Marc Brenner

The story of Hamlet remains unchanged: a grieving prince, haunted by the ghost of his murdered father, spirals into a web of revenge, madness, and moral uncertainty. The court of Denmark becomes a society rotting from within, its leadership corrupt and its loyalties fractured. In this version, that decay is mirrored through the doomed voyage of the Titanic, with the whole play compressed into a single night as the ship hurtles towards disaster. It is a concept that is both compelling and contentious. 

Visually, it’s a strong start. Es Devlin’s set is the defining image: a sharply raked ship deck, constantly threatening to tip its actors into the water (or twist their ankles), with a looming canopy overhead, whose movement becomes more dynamic as the tension rises. It’s cinematic, and it gives the whole piece a sense of tension from the get-go. Add in the immersive sound design (Adam Cork), lighting (Jack Knowles) and video elements (Akhila Krishnan), and you’ve got a world that feels intense, claustrophobic, and undeniably stylish.

And when it works, it really works. There are moments where the design and direction come together beautifully, creating a sense of scale and urgency that propels the story forward.

But the Titanic concept does have a habit of getting in its own way. There are points where it feels a little too keen to remind you that we are on a boat. Nautical references pop up in the text that don’t quite sit right, and certain plot points start to feel… well, a bit awkward. The graveyard scene, Hamlet being sent to England, and even the basic geography of Denmark, all become muddled. You find yourself drifting away from the drama and into a running internal commentary of “why is this on the Titanic again?” which is a distraction in and of itself.

This blurry relationship between aesthetic and play extends to the text. To make the concept work, cuts and tweaks have been made, and not all of them pay off. There are a few too many sea-based references shoehorned in, sticking out rather than blending naturally into Shakespeare’s language. The biggest casualty, though, is Gertrude’s speech about Ophelia’s death. It’s usually one of the most beautiful, lyrical moments in the play, but here it’s trimmed right down. Understandably so, given the setting, but the result is that the moment rushes by. Ophelia’s death barely has time to land, and by the time we reach her funeral, there’s a noticeable lack of emotional punch. It’s a clear example of the production choosing concept over poetry and losing something important in the process.

Performance-wise, there is much to admire. Ralph Davis’ Hamlet takes a little while to get going, but once he settles in, he becomes the emotional core of the show. By the time we hit “words, words, words”, he’s completely in his stride. There’s a real vulnerability to his performance, paired with a natural, conversational delivery of the text that makes the language feel accessible without dumbing it down.

If anyone steals the show, though, it’s Richard Cant as Polonius. He’s quick, sharp, and genuinely funny, a bit of a live wire on stage. His physicality is restless, his delivery precise, and he makes Polonius feel surprisingly modern. It’s a performance full of detail and energy, and easily one of the highlights of the evening.

Colin Ryan offers a steady, grounding presence as Horatio, providing a quiet emotional throughline to Hamlet’s chaos. Ian Hughes, as Ghost and Player King, is confident and understated, avoiding melodrama in favour of quiet authority. And Georgia-Mae Myers’ Ophelia charts a more grounded descent into madness than is often seen, though the show’s timeline spans less than 5 hours, which makes her transformation feel rushed and undermines its emotional weight.

And that compressed timeline is a bit of a sticking point. The on-stage digital clock makes it clear that everything is happening over a single night. It adds urgency, sure, but Hamlet isn’t really a play that thrives on speed. It’s about thinking, questioning, spiralling. In this production, those moments of reflection feel squeezed in between plot points. The big soliloquies still land, but they don’t quite have the breathing room they deserve.

You feel that most in the second half. The first act is character-driven, clear, and nicely paced. The second half becomes a bit of a whirlwind. Plot points are revealed in rapid succession, fights happen, people roll off the boat, and before you know it, we’re at the end. It’s not that it doesn’t make sense; it just feels rushed, like we’ve skipped a few emotional steps along the way.

There are still flashes of real creativity. The play-within-a-play, staged as a masked operatic sequence, is a standout moment for me. Visually, it is distinct and genuinely fun to watch, even if it feels like it belongs to an entirely different production. In isolation, it is a lot of fun. 

What you’re left with is a show full of great ideas, some of which land beautifully, and some of which don’t quite stick. There’s no denying the ambition here. Goold has crafted something bold, accessible, and visually compelling, and there is genuine value in that, particularly as the RSC continues to reach new audiences. But boldness alone is not enough. Concept must serve text, not compete with it.

This Hamlet is never dull. It is frequently impressive. Occasionally frustrating. Because while this ship is filled with talent, intelligence, and theatrical ambition, it never quite reaches the destination it sets out for. Still, for all its turbulence, it’s a voyage worth taking; even if this Hamlet doesn’t quite stay afloat.

“A bold, visually striking Hamlet that doesn’t quite stay afloat — ambitious, inventive, but ultimately adrift between concept and text.”