No excuses can hide the criminal actions of a Nazi fellow-traveller in this admirably objective documentary, suggests MARTIN HALL

Hamlet
The Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon
THERE are as many Hamlets as there are actors who play the part or directors who shape the play. Rupert Gould’s two-and-a-half-hour production has skilfully stripped down Shakespeare’s longest play to its essentials. In doing so he has delivered the most powerful production of the many I have seen since Buzz Goodbody’s with Ben Kingsley’s tortured prince in 1975.
Here Elsinore’s battlements have been translated into the forecastle of an ocean liner. The published date, 1912, and the Edwardian-costumed passengers only need the atmosphere of gnawing depression of Luke Thallon’s grieving Hamlet to conjure up the folk memory of the Titanic disaster.

GORDON PARSONS squirms at a production that attempts to update Shakespeare’s comedy to a tale of Premier League football


