“WHY is it set on the Titantic?” asked my 15-year-old daughter as the RSC production of Hamlet started its prestigious UK tour at the Hall for Cornwall. This was a valid question; but the idea of a cruise liner sailing on rocky seas towards impending doom, with the loss of virtually all on board, is an apt metaphor for what is possibly the Bard’s bleakest play.

Ralph Davis is a superb anchor as the angst-ridden Dane, grieving the loss of his father the king and revulsed by his mother’s hasty marriage to her brother-in-law Claudius. Enraged to learn that his father was murdered by Claudius to claim his crown and queen, Hamlet feigns madness (read: gibbering and grimacing) as a cover for his plans of vengeance – and thus begins his descent into true darkness.

The set, consisting of a timber deck and ceiling, is sparse; the latter moves and, combined with watery projections to the rear of the stage, is most effective at conveying being at sea (landlubbers: take tablets). One by one, the dead are discharged overboard; poor Ophelia’s soggy demise makes perfect sense, although how Rosencrantz and Guildenstern were supposed to reach England other than by swimming the Atlantic is less clear (perhaps that’s why – spoiler alert – they never made it).

I wasn’t so keen on the digital clock seemingly plagiarised from spooktacular 2:22; not my favourite play, and superfluous - tacky even - in this case.

It's a long haul, but this Hamlet never felt arduous. I was entranced by the fluidity of the language, and the sheer number of phrases that have made it into the English lexicon in perpetuity. It really is a masterclass in Bardic brilliance.

This was a moving and powerful production that transforms Hamlet into a relatable tale for our times, performed most excellently by the RSC who thoroughly deserved their standing ovation.