Goodnight Sweet Prince

Anna Sokolova
Aug 15
3 min read

Old Fitz Theatre Sydney, 31 July - 15 August 2026

The review

Just how life went, by luck I have a special lens to look at Shakespeare’s plays, especially “Hamlet”. Long ago in Moscow, when I was studying (the course was not complete - another story), theatre critics and history in the Moscow version of NIDA, we had one of the best people in the world, Alexey Bartoshevich. Even officially, he was, among other things, a member of the Executive Committee of the International Shakespeare Association, and he studied Shakespeare his whole life. The lectures and talks we’ve got were a treasure. It was a lot about “Hamlet”, its staging history, interpretations, versions - everything. And on top, I can easily recall at least six performances I’ve seen from around the world, and the one I still keep returning to.

So I came to see this work curious how this play got transformed this time.

It engulfed me.

Distilled mostly to Hamlet’s monologues, performed by only two actors, it is the theatre that knows how to use every inch of space and every minute of time. The space is filled with strange objects, arranged in distorted order - small colourful chairs hanging under the ceiling, a large empty picture frame on one wall, a collage standing on a cupboard, made of a mess of a human face, a clown outfit and a woman; an old-fashioned crystal chandelier in a beam of red light which creates its large shadow on a wall behind. There is a massive tulle curtain - light in texture, but layered, made to look heavy. Each item is trivial, but together it is perceived as irrational, doubling, tripling dimension of the space. Fixed and stationary, this space feels like a snapshot of something broken, rudely disturbed - maybe the world, maybe a man’s mind. Flooded with extramundane green with a shade of white, golden with a shade of green, red, dirty white light, and with a flow of sounds, from church bells to nightclub tunes, it brings a state of feverish trance. Earthy palette of costume colours matches the overall tone of the set.

Hamlet (Jack Twelvetree on the evening I’ve seen this work - actors switching roles each night) is in the middle of this, and there is no interpretation needed for his state. It is an exhausted, broken young man who must complete his travel along his own story, from one monologue to another, through all of them, like following a curse. His only companion is a sane, sober Horatio (Raj Labade).

Raj Labade and Jack Twelvetree are pure preeminence in shape-shifting. One cannot promptly recall the face of an actor but remembers the smallest gesture of each of the characters played by them. Raj Labade delivers an excellent take on the most famous monologue by Claudius. Deluged by rave tunes, with a bright red beam suffusing his face, he is stoned and content, smoothly dancing, looking young and audacious. This king is not begging for forgiveness or burning with guilt. He is pleased with his crown, his ambition, and his queen; he is not praying - he is challenging god. Enjoying himself, sassily throwing every word, he remarks, “Something is rotten in the state of Denmark”. It is so spot on, and coming out of his lips is so unexpected - who knew is so aware of this position that the audience laughs. The most controversial and yet the most appropriate reaction to a perfectly delivered line.

This work is stellar in using small things to create a great image, if not a symbol. A long folded piece of light tulle freely lies on arms, indeed looks like a dead young woman. An empty picture frame pretends to be a mirror - not even broken, but invisible - but painfully real for Hamlet. Recurringly appearing knife, patiently taken away by Horatio, with a gesture one would repeat a move knowing that a person keeps forgetting what has just been asked.

It is only 70 minutes of existence in another reality, to savor every line. The rest is silence - how bitter this sentence is, destined for an ephemeral world, when one is longing for it never to end.