When I watch one of Shakespeare’s plays, I always assess it by reference to the original script, asking myself whether any adaptations were a positive addition or an unnecessary distraction. I assume this is because I have not only read but seen them performed so many times and find them not only brilliant and timeless but also perfect for re-interpretation. Contemporary directors are therefore faced with a difficult choice – do they present the play from a new angle adding new context on behalf of the audience, or do they stick to the original, trusting the audience to find new interpretations for themselves?

The accelerated and more succinct All’s well at the Sam Wanamaker stays quite true to form, even if putting the ailing King in a nappy made absolutely no sense. The costume design however was a welcome adaptation. The attire oscillating between chic-black and salmon pink depending on location added an additional contemporary edge underscoring how modern a character Helen(a) actually is.

She is, after all, the original feminist, smart and resourceful. Her ambition takes account of neither sex nor class – she approaches the King of France as an equal and convinces him to let her try a cure. She has full agency – she is the one who chooses, not the one who is chosen, setting her sights on a man and pursuing him relentlessly. But especially in tune with today’s feminists, she is very vocal about her low opinion of men’s sexual behaviours.

And yet she is willing to humiliate herself chasing after someone so unimpressive, someone clearly not worthy of her attention. Determination becomes subsumed by desperation, and it is easy to lose respect for her.

For me, however, she was never meant to be either saint or sinner; gold digger or virtuous virgin. She was simply a woman in love, and no more could you control who you fell in love with in the days of the Bard than you can today, even if all your friends tell you he is just simply not worth it.

Come on ladies, which one of us has never fallen like that? I lost track of the number of times that Bertram is referred to as a boy throughout the play. And there is something so alluring about the immature lad, the rake, the young, handsome rogue, the Peter Pan, is there not? And let’s be honest, most women love a project, want to fix their future partner, help them grow up and grow into their potential. Men, on the other hand, often do not willingly want to take on the additional responsibilities that come with becoming husbands and fathers and need some gentle persuasion down the right path.

But also, it’s not really him, right? It is that friend who is a bad influence – dragging your boy out to all the night clubs, or in this case, battlefields. It is Parolles who is the real villain. This however takes on quite a different spin in this version. By exposing Betram and Parolles as lovers their going away to war is no longer an attempt to escape the “unmanly bondage of marriage.” It is not an attempt to extend the life of no actual responsibility, away with the boys, sexual contests of no consequence galore, but the opportunity for the two men to be together for a while longer.

But if that was the intention, then it needed to be woven through more thoughtfully. Agony in Betram’s eyes when Parolles is kidnapped, tortured and humiliated as he is forced to watch on and pretend to be amused to hide his true self. The courtship of Diana just another act to deceive onlookers about his true desires. I am not quite sure how the giving of the heirloom ring could be justified in this context, but that being said, I generally find that this is a weak link in the way the original is written anyway.

Or alternatively, Parolles could be rehabilitated – not the villain, but the one wronged by his lover, the lover who treats him like nothing more than a plaything and tosses him away at whim. That could have been an interesting turn of events and in fact I felt that William Robinson, who delivered a brilliantly nuanced performance, could have pulled that off, given how easily he outshone the rest of the cast. But without any of these adjustments, which could be achieved probably with acting alone, making Bertram bisexual adds nothing other than confusion.

There are also other perspectives that could have been explored to add a completely different tension to the play. Obviously, in Shakespear’s time, marriage was first and foremost a social contract – not the outcome of romantic love. Betram’s reaction to being told he had to marry Helen was therefore highly unconventional. Not only did his mother approve but he was given explicit instruction from his liege lord and surrogate father. The king had even commitment to elevate Helena’s wealth and standing in society. This is why the central premise of Helena trapping Betram into a marriage he had entered into but did not want, would not have seemed deceitful but rather would have come across as fair play.

But in today’s world, the bed switch feels leaves a very unpleasant aftertaste. Maybe we need to see Bertram as the wronged party. Afterall, we now recognise the concept of ‘rape by deception’ – a situation in which the perpetrator deceives the victim into participating in a sexual act to which they would otherwise not have consented, had they not been deceived. Now taking that spin on things could be truly an All’s well for the present day.