A Bold, Bare, and Brilliant Solo Dive into Shakespeare’s Darkest Mind
I walked into Wilton’s Music Hall not quite sure what to expect as it is not every day you see Hamlet performed by one person—and only a few months ago, Andrew Scott gave us a one-man Vanya that left a high bar. Hamlet, though, feels even riskier. A dense web of grief, madness, politics, and philosophy, usually requiring a cast of 20. How could one person possibly carry it?
Well, Mark Lockyer doesn’t just carry it. He lifts it, distills it, and lets it take flight.
From the moment Lockyer stepped onto the stripped-back stage (just a red curtain, a wooden chair and table, a coffee pot, and a single floor lamp) he set the tone: no spectacle, no fuss. He sat quietly, took a sip of coffee, placed his head in his hands, and then… he became Hamlet. Or rather, he became the world of the play, embodying not just Hamlet’s turmoil, but every character who dares to cross the Danish court.
What followed was not a “performance” in the usual sense. It felt more like a channelling. Lockyer was a vessel, shifting fluidly between characters with nothing more than a change in voice, posture, or rhythm. There was no confusion, no gimmickry—just clarity, intimacy, and raw precision. Every gesture mattered. In the simplicity of the staging, there was deep complexity.
And there was something else at play—a chemistry beyond the stage, between actor and director. This is a collaboration between Lockyer and Fiona Laird, and you can feel the trust. The performance flows with ease and intention, as if shaped over years of shared language. Lockyer’s delivery has that rare quality of being technically sharp and emotionally instinctive, a result, no doubt, of lived experience and creative alignment.
Lockyer has spoken before about his long journey back to the stage, about his battle with mental illness, addiction, and time lost to instability. But this production is not about redemption. It is about honouring the text. In interviews, Lockyer has stressed that Shakespeare comes first, and it shows. There’s no indulgence here, only deep respect for the language, and a mission to make it live for everyone.
And he succeeds. There were moments where I forgot I was watching a one-man show. Moments where lines I thought I knew rang out with such natural clarity I felt like I was hearing them for the first time. One that stuck with me is Claudius’s reflection on Gertrude:
“My virtue or my plague, be it either which,—She’s so conjunctive to my life and soul.”
Delivered almost offhand, it lingered in the air like something too close to real life. That ability to make Shakespeare sound like a passing thought rather than a monologue—that’s skill.
Lockyer also knows exactly when to draw us in. During Hamlet’s moments of deepest despair, he didn’t retreat. Instead he leaned in, physically and emotionally. At times he stood right at the edge of the stage, barely over it, talking to us directly, like we were the only ones who could hear him. The lighting, subtle but clever, worked like an extra character—marking shifts in rhythm, scene, or tone. One especially memorable moment: when Hamlet’s father’s ghost speaks, Lockyer stood in front of the floor lamp, casting a towering shadow on the old music hall wall, eerie and otherworldly. It was simple, effective, unforgettable.
Amid the tragedy, there were moments of unexpected humour, slipped in with finesse. These weren’t jokes, they were wry, human recognitions that made the production feel grounded, relatable.
This wasn’t just a bold experiment—it was a reminder of what theatre can do with very little. A single performer, a small stage, and a 400 year-old script, when handled with honesty and craft, can still make an audience hold its breath. And perhaps most importantly: it’s clear. Lockyer wanted this Hamlet to be accessible to anyone, especially the younger generations, and it is. You don’t need a literature degree to understand it. You just need to be willing to listen. And once you do, it becomes hard to stop.
The Play’s The Thing. A One Person Hamlet plays until April 12th at Wilton’s Music Hall.