Steven Pimlott's ferociously austere, quietly thrilling production could well be subtitled "an investigation". From the opening moments, when a searchlight on the ramparts throws its relentless beam on the audience and the grey-suited, chilly corporate world of Elsinore, this is a detective story that uncovers crimes of power and crimes of the heart.
Samuel West's Hamlet, a young dissident in a world of yes men, where people even laugh on cue and where surveillance cameras track every move, finds himself unexpectedly playing chief detective, with the body of evidence largely lying within himself. In a country that has renounced its soul, peering into the darker recesses of your mind is a painful business. The ghost who set the whole business rolling has an awful lot to answer for.
Modern-dress productions of Hamlet often seem gimmicky and self-consciously hip, and this one has its fair share of black leather jackets, revolvers and shared joints. But here these things seem integral rather than imposed. Hamlet lives in a dicey business set-up that knows it is easy prey to a corporate raid by Norway. And one of the interesting things about the production is the way it constantly implicates the audience. Our clapping and that of the sycophantic flunkies at Claudius's court are one.
A few roles are undercast, possibly miscast, but from the moment he appears as a troubled young man in sweatshirt and jeans, West's Hamlet, the believer turned sceptic, is mesmerising. This is a guy who would have done well as the boss's son: he knows how to play the part, lay on the charm, and he has the brainpower to rise to the top. But he won't play. He places himself outside, seeks the corporate cold shoulder, and must learn to live and die with his isolation.
This is a young Hamlet, an urgent Hamlet, and a tough, hard Hamlet for our tough, hard times. Four hours whizz by in a twinkling.
· In rep until April 2. Box office: 020-7638 8891.
