As when a beam of light entering a prism refracts into various colours, this National Theatre production takes one of Shakespeare’s most renowned works and presents it back to us as a striking array of tension, comedy and wonder.

Hiran Abeysekera powerfully portrays Hamlet’s desire for vengeance. The monologue scenes in particular showcase his talent: Abeysekera varies his intonation and adopts an erratic, fast-paced line delivery which teeters on the verge of stream-of-consciousness rambling, successfully conveying Hamlet’s abounding grief for his father and his turbulent desire to avenge him. At times, he renders Hamlet’s fragility palpable, tears welling in his eyes; at others, he affronts Ophelia, brimming with cruel anger. Abeysekera also brings a comic lightness to the role. During interactions with other characters he dominates the stage with cheeky, self-important mannerisms, even surprising us with occasional flirtations towards Rosencrantz. The result is an intensely enchanting, almost lovable protagonist, capable of sustaining tension while also offering relief from the play’s heavier moments of introspection.

“Ophelia, played by Francesca Mills, is near-perfect in her performance, and an utter joy to watch”

Ophelia, played by Francesca Mills, is near-perfect in her performance, and an utter joy to watch. With charming mannerisms and an unfettered, upbeat charisma, she brings a wholly unique energy to the stage. Mills’ Ophelia radiates playfulness, independence and a youthful, lovestruck demeanour. This creates a striking contrast to the scenes following her father Polonius’ (Geoffrey Streatfield) death. Stripped from her dainty attire into a long, bedraggled shirt, with loose hair and angel wings, Ophelia runs erratically around the stage, tossing flowers and singing in a delusional haze. Although illustrative of Ophelia’s unbridled despair, I felt that Mills’ earlier energy is somewhat overly sustained here, with the scene becoming more humorous than grievous. I wonder if greater emotional honesty in this moment would have brought more poignancy to Polonius’ death, backdropped as it is by the harrowing consequences of King Hamlet’s death which haunt the play.

Minor characters are also brought successfully to the stage. Tessa Wong is particularly convincing as Horatio; steadfast in her compassionate, loyal friendship to Hamlet which finds its devastating culmination in her agonising response to his death. Geoffrey Streatfield plays Polonius as a tender father figure, anxious for his son and daughter to uphold virtuous behaviour to an extent that borders on humorous. Less satisfying is Tom Glenister in the role of Laertes, whose performance felt overly restrained and unchanged for a character who should become gradually burdened by the weight of emotional turmoil and familial loss. From the moment of his father’s death up to the final fencing scene, I felt that Glenister’s emotional register could have been pushed further.

The most thrilling moments of the production arise when characters are in direct opposition, whether through hidden motives, such as the Murder of Gonzago scene which reveals Claudius’ crime, or through physical conflict, such as the fight scene between Laertes and Hamlet.

“The most thrilling moments of the production arise when characters are in direct opposition”

Director Robert Hastie demonstrates a keen eye for detail, particularly in his subtle staging of hands to exaggerate the play’s overriding themes of guilt and turmoil. This is not an uncommon motif in Shakespearean tragedy, yet Hastie has found new creative means of portraying the symbol. During his monologue, Alistair Petrie, playing Claudius, stains his hand black using the Murder of Gonzago’s mock poison as a visual representation of his confessed guilt. At other points, Abeysekera’s hands deceive the audience: one moment he points a trembling finger-gun at his head or towards his enemies; the next, a real pistol is placed, seemingly derived from nowhere, into his hand, and Polonius is murdered. This optical illusion literalises Hamlet’s mental instability and indecision, one of the production’s most impactful directorial choices.

Equally applaudable is the set, designed by Ben Stones. The open, unfurnished space permits unrestrained movement of the actors and swift, diverse transformation: from a dining hall, to a playhouse, to a fencing ground. The grandiose backdrop and stately appearance of the stage’s outer wall is perhaps a nod to the Renaissance period in which the play was first written and performed, whilst the 21st century dress (also designed by Stones) upholds a desire to convey the play’s ongoing relevance in society today.

Overall, this is an incredible and highly commendable piece of theatre. While minor tweaks to individual character development across the play could enhance emotional depth, there is little else at fault. Hastie’s vision of this iconic tragedy is a truly stunning one.

Hamlet will be released in cinemas on 22 January 2026 – audiences can find their nearest screening at NTLive.com