There’s a clear and present danger in so bullishly – not to mention literally – framing an entire production of Hamlet around the concept of a sinking ship.

“Rupert [Goold, director] and Luke [Thallon, actor] were interested in setting the action within the context of a catastrophic event where the outcome is already known to the audience.”

Set designer Es Devlin, outlining the thinking behind this Titanic-inspired spin on one of Shakespeare’s most celebrated and staged offerings. From its turn-of-the-20th-Century costuming to the epic, tilting spectacle of Elsinore’s maritime supplement, Goold takes his Hamlet out onto the high seas almost by way of James Cameron, boldly courting tragedy and potential ‘IRL’ disaster in the process.

Somehow, the iceberg is diverted. What could easily have become a Hindenburg of style and spectacle over substance, as its company throw themselves about a collapsing stage like screaming rag dolls before enormous rear screen projects of rolling seas, actually manifests as a captivating thrill ride of intense, haunting performances, top-tier production values and frequently stunning stagecraft.

“It feels raw, authentic, dangerous and utterly absorbing.”

Steering the good ship Hamlet – or rather careening it into the choppiest waters of desperation and madness – is a captivating Luke Thallon, serving up a mesmerising RSC debut in the titular role. His naturalistic, freewheeling prince feels at times almost ethereal to the events about him, his madness at his Uncle’s perceived regicide framed with a boyishness, occasionally crackling with nervy tics or bursting forth into full-throated rage. There’s an almost matter of fact, even improvisational slant to Thallon’s delivery. It feels raw, authentic, dangerous and utterly absorbing.

It’s a kinetic central turn, and Goold almost drowns his production in movement to match. Be it the aforementioned canting of the stage itself – representing the ship’s quarters and deck – which impressively dips and tilts to almost gravity-defying extents, or ensemble members constantly rushing up stairs or even flinging themselves out of hatches and openings. Even Akhila Krishnan’s moody video backdrops throb with movement mechanical and industrial, as seen deep in the bows of the ship’s engine room where Hamlet first encounters Anton Lesser’s ghostly evocation, or even the haunting flow of the ocean by moonlight. Occasionally, the ominous pulse of red digital clock faces add extra punch, reminding us that Goold and co have not only confined this tale of treachery and murder to one locale, but to the span of a single night, also.

It is at times nail bating in its ratcheting of this tension and propulsion.

Whilst Thallon’s deliciously multi-faceted turn is the driving force here, he is far from alone in impressing. With the momentum and pacing dialled up to eleven, and the intensity of performances across the board cranked up to match, Goold mercifully finds moments of levity to ease some of the gnawing dread and heaviness. Thallon himself jesters about with a comical, mocking underbelly to his almost adolescent despair, whilst Elliot Levey is great fun as an awkward, sycophantic Polonius.

“…there’s no denying that it is in the grit and grimness that this breathless Hamlet really prickles the skin.”

But there’s no denying that it is in the grit and grimness that this breathless Hamlet really prickles the skin. The barely-suppressed ruthlessness of Jared Harris’ Claudius eventually segues to a more savage, almost feral thing as his schemes collapse about him. Nancy Carroll is captivating as a conflicted Gertrude torn between love for her son and the mayhem he is affecting. And if Nia Towle is initially a likeable, proper Ophelia, she too particularly impresses during the character’s later, darker moments – disrobing, singing and cascading into her own despair.

With the inherent tragedy of Shakespeare and Hamlet infused with the flavour of disaster, it almost begs the question why such an urgent union hasn’t quite been attempted before. This is Hamlet the thriller, the Hollywood blockbuster almost.

And if such treatment may sound like a thing of horror for purists, then rest assured. Scintillating performances bring the text to life with ferocity and passion, and all the eye-popping spectacle is handsomely met by a taut, tightly directed and ceaselessly gripping adventure on the high seas.

Whilst by no means a maiden affair, here is one of the RSC‘s finest, most gripping voyages to date.

All aboard.