This is a play giving an insider glimpse into John Gielgud’s struggles to direct what became known as Richard Burton’s Hamlet. Despite the infamously fraught and alcohol-drenched process, the 1964 production was a massive financial success (the artistic success was less undisputed) and ran for 137 performances. You can enjoy a film record of the performance – something I wish I had at least skimmed before going to see the play, as I think it would have allowed me to follow aspects of the plot more easily.

Many details of the rehearsals are known, as Richard Sterne – the actor playing Gentleman – secretly taped the proceedings and even hid under part of the set to record the director and star having a private meeting the day before the premiere. He went on to write a book – John Gielgud Directs Richard Burton In Hamlet: A Journal Of Rehearsals – which is effectively a chronological record of rehearsals and conversations based between Gielgud and Burton.

In addition, throughout the preparations, William Redfield – Guildenstern – provided an epistolographical running commentary to a friend of what was going on, on stage and off. This exchange was collected in his book – Letters from an Actor.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, Sam Mendes came across these books and decided to commission Jack Thorne to write a play that brings their content together. So what we get is a piece that intersperses rehearsal scenes that use verbatim words from the days, social gatherings in Burton and Taylor’s apartment (the two had wed in March 1964, following the affair that started with Cleopatra in 1962) and speeches from Hamlet. It cuts from one scene to another in style reminiscent of cinematography, with a very large cast of mostly minor roles.

It is an easy watch – long play that it is, it does not drag and it is a fascinating portrait of those days and of those events – largely thanks to the available source materials. Gielgud’s and Burton’s acting is also compelling and the tension between the two characters – the subtle, refined director and the naturalistic, explosive actor – expertly brought out. I enjoyed my time at the Lyttelton, there is no denying that. However, I can’t but wonder whether the ‘fly on the wall’ documentary part of the play would have worked better as a film; whether the script and acting between Burton and Taylor was strong enough to reflect the turbulence of the relationship or their decadence; and whether the Hamlet cameos were Sam Mendes dipping his toe in the water, not quite confident enough to take on Shakespeare’s masterpiece in its entirety. There seemed no real purpose to them and – other than Gielgud’s ‘Speak the speech, I pray you,’ – all of them failed to raise my heartbeat.

For me, there’s the rub – I am not convinced that this mishmash actually works and that it needed to be written in the first place. Yes, clearly there are some deep themes being hinted at here – the juxtaposition between the traditional and the modern, the worries of an ageing great desperate to remain relevant, the arrogance and insecurity that comes with celebrity status, the yearning for immortality, the power that diversity of thought has to drive new, exciting outcomes… But none of these are explored deeply enough to really engage the audience or to connect with any of the characters. Some of the themes – like the fear of being exposed as gay in times when this was forbidden – seem to have been thrown in for good measure, as if the author realised that the other tense scenes might not be quite enough and a further ingredient needed to be tossed into the cauldron to heighten emotions.

So I left the theatre thinking to myself – this play about a play that has rarely been off the stage throughout the 400 years since it was written is very unlikely to become a new stage staple, as it lacks both motive or cue.