In Hamlet, Sweet Prince, director Alex Jodi Verge reframes Shakespeare’s tragedy within a contemporary corporate world: they keep the original text, while filtering the story through a queer lens of grief, white supremacy and patriarchal violence. Hamlet’s struggle is less individual indecision than the pressure and pull of inherited and systemic violence.
Of course, the familiar narrative remains: after the sudden death of Denmark’s CEO, his brother Claudius assumes control and marries the CEO’s widow—only for Hamlet to be visited by the ghost of his dead father and tasked with carrying out revenge. The ensuing spiral of violence consumes almost all the principals of this sleek, office-bound Denmark.
The production’s commitment to Shakespeare’s language foregrounds its elasticity, but it also creates friction against the corporate setting—which is aptly chosen, as the boardroom is by far the most significant site of power, hierarchy and control in 2026. Conference tables, smartphones, and officewear lend great immediacy, yet the verse can sometimes feel jarring in this milieu. And it raises practical questions: most notably, why would a troupe of travelling actors visit a corporation and perform in its conference room?
Likewise, the queer casting and gender-swapping offer moments of intrigue, but feel a bit less radical than expected. Indeed, they settle quickly into coherence, rather than feeling like they are actively disrupting systems of oppression, marginalization and harm (or perhaps that is the understated point being made?). The pairing of Rosencrantz (Madeleine Storms) and Guildenstern (Hope Goudsward) as a romantic couple, for instance, seems more a natural and easily accepted extension, rather than a provocative reimagining.
Overall, the show’s conceptual ambition is clear and admirable, though its execution does not always push as far as its premise suggests. I was left wondering if Verge might have cut some of the text more deeply and rearranged certain of its elements more radically.
That said, where the production finds its most compelling footing is in specific casting choices and standout performances. Reimagining Polonius (Hannah Sunley-Paisley) as a young smartphone-toting single mother / corporate leader brings grounded urgency to the character’s worn advice to Laertes. She sheds pomposity and cliche in favour of something that feels more recognizably maternal—and tied to the production’s focus on cycles of care and control. We can also understand why, as a woman herself, she would be particularly incensed by Hamlet’s callous rejection of Ophelia. Claudius (Paul Stafford) is rendered with commanding, chilling, and deeply corporate restraint: his quiet, controlled delivery intensifies the menace, and makes his few true eruptions really pop.
Gabbi Kosmidis’ grieving Hamlet is initially understated—even muted. But in a performance that prioritizes the rawness of Hamlet’s pain over any dissembling that he may be doing, they gain a thrilling intensity, purpose and fluency before our eyes, as the show progresses. And across the ensemble, there is a notable and appealing tenderness—particularly in the relationship between Hamlet and an ethereal Ophelia (Jonnie Lombard)—that aligns with the production’s title and its thematic focus on intimacy and mourning.
If the conceptual frame occasionally strains against the text, the emotional core remains deeply affecting. Hamlet, Sweet Prince is a thoughtfully performed and engaging interpretation, carried by a committed group of young actors with a clear desire to find new softness within a familiar tragedy.
Hamlet, Sweet Prince runs until April 26, 2026 at That Art’s Group – “The Rehearsal Hall”. Tickets and information, including accessibility note, are available here.
© Arpita Ghosal, Sesaya Arts Magazine 2026
