I know you know this, but just so we're all singing from the same hymn sheet: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are two minor characters in Hamlet. This is a play about them.

This production of Stoppard's absurdist play sets the action in the ruins of an old playhouse. Bits of old set clog up the background, props are strewn everywhere: it's a bit of a wreck. Still, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern don't mind; both clad in suits of solemn black (Guildenstern's with red piping so one can tell them apart, I presume), they sit amongst the rubble playing a coin-tossing game. And so begin the Godot-esque ramblings, existentialist musings and general wordy banter. To be perfectly honest, the play here seems a little rickety and disjointed, with Stoppard's philosophical ideas often getting trampled under all the clowning around. It's only when some weird-looking players turn up (led by Venetia Twigg dressed as Papa Lazarou from The League of Gentlemen) that the play really gets going and begins to engage with Hamlet, as R&G feature in scenes from the play, then try to figure out what the hell just happened in the wings post-performance.

From here on in the production was a joy. The whole thing looked great, the costumes were striking and strangely uniform, the music was incredible (sort of bluesy choral stuff... think O Brother Where Art Thou?). A special mention, of course, needs to go to R&G who were fundamentally sensational. Tom Hartill's Rosencrantz was funny and sympathetic, while Benjamin Blyth's Guildenstern - despite the odd flourish of overtly-thespy zeal - was protean and engaging and, yeah, really good.

It took a while to warm up, but when it got there it was thoughtful and funny and sad and nerdy. Great stuff.