In spite of its ongoing popularity, especially in schools, the appeal of Jean Betts’ cheeky cut and paste reconfiguration of Hamlet has never seemed an easy theatre piece to me. As a parody (where a lot of the fun of recognition abounds) it cannot take itself too seriously. As a platform for feminist perception, surely it should.

Robert Gilbert’s heavily cut production, propelled by an energetic and spirited cast of young players, turns out to be an enjoyable distraction from the tension between two aspects of the work.

His sequences are firmly anchored on events and attitudes as they befall Ophelia, who has been awarded Hamlet’s best lines and soliloquies. Hamlet is a pompous bully who still cannot resolve matters arising, while Horatio and Ophelia’s maid do just that. Gertrude is an outspoken, insightful, unrepentant matron of much charisma, matched for sass by the armour-clad shade of Joan of Arc. Poor Claudius is reduced to a life sized puppet but achieves some sparky moments nevertheless. All good fun then. 

Appropriately for a touring production, the set is a simple black back cloth, with a painted central entry curtain (a nod to the hangings at The Globe here). A couple of painted cubes and a statue of the exemplary Virgin Mary complete the dressing.

All this allows plenty of action even in the somewhat compromised space of The Forge. Chases, pop up appearances and general madcap physicality accelerate Gilbert’s cut version so that comedy rather than serious venom is the flavour of the evening.

All the more important, then, are Elizabeth Roberts’ delicious costumes. Each character, including the maid, has something special to work with and all fit the playfully outrageous concept. From ‘sober suit of inky black’ – albeit with devastatingly frilled sleeves – Ophelia translates through girly splendour to a classy Osric look. Hamlet has a very flash bonnet, Horatio is all gorgeous sparkle in candy pinks and Gertrude’s gear, bursting through the curtain, prompts a round of appreciative guffaws before she has uttered a syllable, as does St Joan’s wacky armour. 

The cast clearly enjoys its OTT opportunities. Asking Ophelia’s hard questions, Tara Cattermole’s rather strident vocal quality accommodates her defiant and purposeful moods comfortably, nicely contrasted with Hamlet’s machismo presented by Annie Wesselingh. In turn, ‘he’ is neatly set against the sensitive and rosy figure of Horatio, true author of ‘Shall I compare thee…?’ played by Jayde Braxton.

Julian Carroll doubles as the bosomy Gertrude, endowed with a thrilling contralto, and St Joan, endowed with a weird French accent. Nicole Whalley skips nimbly about as Maid, even engineering an onstage tennis match with the aid of a ball on a black rod.

It is the infectious joy of the romp which remains. No bad thing, even if the pondering of big questions is bypassed on the way.
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