A modern retelling of Hamlet that captures the fragility of friendship and the weight of grief in a deeply intimate setting
Watching Horatio & Hamlet at the Barons Court Theatre feels like experiencing Hamlet in an entirely new light. Harry Reed’s adaptation narrows the focus to Hamlet and Horatio’s relationship, stripping the story down to its emotional core. Set in Hamlet’s cluttered student flat, this version gives an intimate look at two young men grappling with loss and mental chaos, turning one of Shakespeare’s most famous plays into a raw exploration of friendship and grief.
The regal settings of the Danish court are gone. Instead, we’re met with a space more familiar, grounded in a domestic reality that feels contemporary. The simple but effective details, from Hamlet’s weed-smoking to the moment he stubs his foot on the corner of the sofa, to the family pictures on the wall immediately place the characters in an age bracket relatable to today’s audience—young adults struggling with anxieties and traumas. Hamlet isn’t the tragic prince battling external forces here; instead, he’s a young man overwhelmed by grief, turmoil, and trauma. The adaptation allows the audience to connect with Hamlet’s internal struggles on a personal level.
Reed’s Hamlet isn’t the noble, heroic figure wrestling with fate that we see in the original play. His descent into chaos is much more rooted in the messiness of mental illness and the trauma of losing his father. There’s no grand external battle; instead, we watch Hamlet’s unravelling as he retreats further into his mind, using coping mechanisms like smoking and retreating into his thoughts. The way he stumbles through his grief feels intensely familiar and painfully real.
Horatio’s role is reimagined, offering a deeper look into his relationship with Hamlet. As the steady, rational counterpart to Hamlet’s frantic mind, Horatio becomes Hamlet’s emotional anchor, trying to bring him back to reality. The chemistry between the actors is remarkable—Horatio’s calm balances Hamlet’s turmoil perfectly, making their dynamic feel like an island in the middle of a storm.
One of the most striking moments in the play comes in a reimagined version of the famous “Yorick scene.” Instead of holding a skull, Hamlet picks up an apple, carving lines into it with his fingernail. It’s a subtle shift, but the symbolism runs deep. The apple, something living and now scarred, reflects Hamlet’s own deteriorating state. It speaks to a kind of madness driven by isolation—a moment where Hamlet’s dialogue isn’t with himself, but with an inanimate object, as if he were stranded on a desert island, animating whatever he can find to cope with his loneliness.
The lighting and sound design in Horatio & Hamlet are skilfully executed, enhancing the eerie atmosphere without overwhelming the intimate space. A television flickers to life, casting shadows across the room, while a haunting blue light subtly signals the presence of Hamlet’s dead father.
The play’s attempt to keep the language of Shakespeare intact while placing the characters in a student flat is both a strength and a challenge for its pacing. Since the adaptation focuses almost exclusively on the intimate dynamic between Hamlet and Horatio, some might feel that it slows down in parts. Without the broader action and multiple subplots from the original play, there are moments where the dialogue-heavy scenes may feel repetitive or overly introspective, particularly for those who expect more varied dramatic turns in a Hamlet adaptation.
For anyone familiar with Hamlet, this adaptation offers a refreshing, intimate perspective on two of Shakespeare’s most well-known characters. It’s not just a retelling of the play—it’s a journey into the heart of Hamlet’s grief, with Horatio by his side, struggling to pull him back to reality.