Measure for Measure - RSC Review

★★★★★

With 37 plays in rotation, the Royal Shakespeare Company is no stranger to reinventing the Bard, and their 2025 Measure for Measure is no exception. Emily Burns’ modern reimagining swaps out the comedy for a sharp exploration of power, hypocrisy, and consent, drawing bold parallels with today’s political climate. But does stripping away the play’s ambiguity make this 400-year-old “problem play” feel more urgent — or does it risk losing Shakespeare’s depth?

Left to Right - Emily Benjamin (Mariana), Tom Mothersdale (Angelo) Adam James (Duke), Isis Hainsworth (Isabella), Sion Pritchard (Escalus), and Miya James (Juliet).

In Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure, Duke Vincentio of Vienna pretends to leave the city and appoints the strict Angelo to govern in his absence, secretly observing events in disguise as a visiting priest. Angelo enforces harsh moral laws, sentencing young Claudio to death for impregnating his fiancée, Juliet, out of wedlock. When Claudio’s sister, the novice nun Isabella, pleads for his life, Angelo propositions her, offering to spare Claudio if she sacrifices her chastity. Outraged, Isabella resists, but with the Duke’s hidden guidance, a “bed trick” exposes Angelo’s hypocrisy, and Claudio is saved. Ultimately, the Duke returns, justice is dispensed with mercy, and he proposes marriage to Isabella, leaving her response as the perfect punctuation of this play. 

From the very first moment, the Royal Shakespeare Company’s 2025 production of Measure for Measure strikes its audience with an electric relevance. Projections against the back wall flash the faces of Donald Trump, Prince Andrew, Matt Hancock, and even Phillip Schofield—figures whose abuses of power still haunt public consciousness. It’s a bold move that doesn’t just “set the tone”: it grabs you and reminds you that Shakespeare’s questions about authority, hypocrisy, and sexual exploitation are far from historical. In fact, the play is bookended with brilliance. The concluding twist, when Duke Vincentio drops his disguise and steps back into power, making his proposal to Isabella, is transformed into a moment of utter perfection by director Emily Burns. The veil lifts; the mask falls; and Isabella’s response isn’t the traditional unanswered ending; it becomes an indictment and a final moral reckoning.

The performances throughout are a revelation. Isis Hainsworth’s Isabella is the heart of Measure for Measure. She embodies purity and anguish, a nun-in-training whose vulnerability shines through not as weakness, but as the kind of unflinching strength that forces the rest of the stage to reckon with itself. She is quiet, yes, but powerful, the sort of performance that takes your breath away with what it doesn’t shout. With a cast smaller than many RSC productions, the spotlight burns brighter on each individual, and every actor earns their presence. 

Isis Hainsworth and Tom Mothersdale

Design is another area where this production succeeds with style and precision. Frankie Bradshaw’s costume design clearly differentiates Isabella’s chastity and inwardness from Mariana’s more bold, outspoken painted look. But Bradshaw doesn’t stop there: the set is clever and versatile, crafted to shift seamlessly from dark chambers to harsh council rooms. Glass walls, a trapdoor platform, and shadowy corridors; each piece adds weight to the drama. Joshua Pharo’s lighting brings these spaces to life with clarity and mood. Christopher Shutt’s sound design envelops the audience, creating an immersive sonic world that intensifies the suspense.

Shakespeare can be a challenging watch, with language and humour that sometimes feel out of reach, but this production of Measure for Measure strikes the perfect balance. The comedy emerges naturally, never forced or overstated, and the silences are just as powerful as the words. Characters are given space to breathe, to think, and to let their emotions register in stillness, which draws the audience in with remarkable intensity. The play even opens in silence, two characters poring over evidence of scandal, and without a single word, we understand everything we need to know about power, corruption, and fear. It’s a masterstroke of direction—Pinter would be proud.

The design and direction are nothing short of outstanding, elevated by a cast that brings Shakespeare’s world vividly to life. Tom Mothersdale’s Angelo is particularly compelling, shaped and reshaped by circumstance like clay under pressure. He begins as a dutiful subordinate, then hardens into a man intoxicated by power and undone by lust. By the final scenes, his corruption is fully revealed, and Mothersdale delivers a devastating portrait of a man stripped bare. His Angelo becomes a hollow figure, drained of vitality, a broken soul in a body that can no longer carry its own guilt. It’s a performance that is at once gripping and unforgettable.

Isis Hainsworth and Oli Higginson

Adam James is equally captivating as Duke Vincentio, commanding the stage with an assured presence. As the Duke, he is regal, exuberant, and authoritative; as the disguised friar, he transforms into a figure of warmth and dependability, like an ever-prepared step-dad, almost unrecognisable in his modest humility. James’s ability to shift between these personas so seamlessly makes his performance a remarkable debut on the RSC stage. By contrast, Douggie McMeekin brings buoyant energy as Lucio, delivering mischief and irreverence without ever slipping into caricature. His performance is both playful and sharp, like a young Henry Lewis.

Act One closes on a scene of unsettling intensity: Angelo’s encounter with Mariana. Though never explicit, the staging communicates volumes, its unease lingering long after the blackout. The parallels to modern scandals are unmistakable. I could vividly see the image of Matt Hancock caught on CCTV in this tableau; the moment resonates as a stark reminder that the abuses Shakespeare explored four centuries ago remain chillingly present today. Emily Benjamin deserves special praise for her portrayal of Mariana, who is bold, assertive, and emotionally unflinching. Her performance rejects passivity; instead, she claims agency with striking conviction, making Mariana’s voice very commanding in the production.

This Measure for Measure is essential theatre: powerful, unflinching, and utterly compelling. Shakespeare’s so-called “problem play” is reimagined here with artistry, moral clarity, and fearless theatricality, transforming it into a production that grips from the first moment to the last. For anyone who still believes Shakespeare is outdated or irrelevant, this visceral staging proves the opposite. Rarely has his work felt so urgent, so alive, or so necessary.