Hamlet with Ian McKellen @ Ashton Hall

Is it possible to put on a truly original production of Hamlet, in the wake of centuries upon centuries of canonical attention? Edinburgh Festival Ballet’s adaptation of Shakespeare’s seminal tragedy certainly gives it a go. In this hotly anticipated, sold-out Fringe show, the famed soliloquies of the original weave throughout a balletic reimagining that sees two Hamlets take to the stage: a young, silent dancer and Sir Ian McKellen, who reprises the role decades after first playing the green-behind-the-ears prince.

What does it do to literature’s quintessential tragic hero – defined by his isolation and adolescent solipsism – to render him doubled, half-robbed of the arrogance of his youth? Certainly the adaptation dilutes the sheer claustrophobic tragedy of Hamlet's plight: at every turn there is someone to offer comfort, to witness, to understand with a gentle smile and the weary regret of old age the fury of his own grief. McKellen, in the only speaking role, delivers fragmented monologues with a well-worn naturalism that stakes his claim as one of our great Shakespearean actors – the words feel fresh, newly born, as if torn from Hamlet’s anguished breast.

Less convincing are the show’s dance elements, sadly comprising much of the interpretation. Nicely conceptualised though it is, the choreography nevertheless lacks the subtlety and technical precision that makes ballet such an enigmatic form, ripe with the unspoken nature of psychological torment. There are some beautiful moments – Katie Rose, who plays Ophelia, is particularly lovely – yet too many of the gestures and movements border on the mimetic and spelled-out, disrupting the complex ambiguity of the genre. 

Ultimately, this adaptation’s execution never quite matches the scope of its genre-defying ambition. And yet, despite its untapped potential, there is something undeniably beguiling in the concept's startling, tender approach: the soft, latent queerness between Hamlet and Horatio, the intimacy of narcissism seen in the twinned princes’ clasped hands and entangled arms. As the familiar action unravels, a singular truth becomes apparent. There is only one person who can truly understand literature’s inaugural sadboy – the distorted torture of his angst and grief – and that is himself. It is strangely moving to watch this hamartia given form.

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Hamlet with Ian McKellen, Ashton Hall Saint Stephens Stockbridge, until 28 Aug (not 8, 15, 22), times vary, returns only