New Venture Theatre’s modern Hamlet is an abridged version, but it is not reduced.

Nothing is lost from the essence of the drama: if anything, pruned by Steven O’Shea of gravediggers, clowns, Rosencrantz and sundry extras, the tragedy is spare, sharp and newly luminous.

Soliloquies shine, familiar quotations hit home, characters have space to think, to be, grow mad and die.

Jonny Parlett’s Hamlet allows the feeling that he is never quite in control of himself and that his rages, furies, lusts and loves are terrifyingly real. Emotion governs his every action, occasionally almost too much so, but in powerful contrast to his Mother and fragile Ophelia.

Sarah Davies makes a loyal Gertrude of vacillating maternity and charged sexuality, a perfect wife for the murderous Claudius of Jim Calderwood whose upright demeanour conceals menace in every phrase.

Lily Crossfield goes mad beautifully while James Harkness and Jonny Parlett’s fencing is a triumph of athletic horror.

Polonius, usually the light relief, still keeps a handful of neat lines, perfectly delivered by Jerry Lyne.