Tom Stoppard’s Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead is a play of absurdity, existentialism and agitated tragicomedy. HATS have chosen this ambitious, complex piece of drama for their Freshers’ Play, and despite a few irritations it works rather well.

The title characters, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, are two courtiers from Shakespeare’s Hamlet; Stoppard’s play runs parallel to the original, with Hamlet, Polonius and Ophelia among others making appearances and performing fragments of the script. It could be jarring in the hands of a less skilled group, but HATS pull off the transitions well, and the shift to iambic pentameter feels smooth and unforced.

The play’s overriding emotion is one of bewilderment, principally from the two unlikely heroes. This is particularly well brought across by Robbie Taylor Hunt’s entrancing Rosencrantz, whose initial enthusiasm and hyperactivity gives way to petulance and fear: his meditations on the nature of death and eternity are all the more powerful for their subtlety. Guildenstern, for his part, is similarly intense, portrayed in more reserved and moody fashion by Paul Tait. That said, occasionally he trips up on his monologues, and his shifts into anger are unconvincing. Any failings on their parts individually, however, are amply remedied by their chemistry. Their frenetic, rapid-fire scenes together are very effective and usually hilarious, and the elements of homoerotic flirtation are compelling and natural.

The same cannot be said for elements of the direction. Although in an absurdist play like Rosencrantz and Guildenstern or Waiting for Godot a certain degree of aimlessness is desirable, the characters in HATS’ production wander around the stage and seem unable to stand still at important moments. This tendency is distracting, especially when coupled with the rather self-conscious and awkward moments of physical comedy; it is particularly noticeable in the Hamlet segments. Similarly distracting is the baffling backdrop, apparently a cross between a studio apartment and an aircraft hangar: this serves as a visual reinforcement of the play’s fundamental existential emptiness but flaps around disconcertingly in the play’s more active moments. More pressingly, actors cut each other’s lines off just frequently enough for it to be noticeable, adding an undeserved element of amateurism to some scenes.

Despite this, the characters are ably portrayed, particularly the Player (Julia Kass), whose vibrant and indulgent performance provides a refreshing departure from orthodox portrayals in Hamlet. In his few appearances, Max Maher’s Hamlet owns his scenes: his vengeful fury is palpable by his mere presence, and even his more benign moments reflect the indefatigable certainty of the insane.

Although Rosencrantz and Guildenstern suffers from several annoying issues, none are fatal and it is an enjoyable evening out. Its success as a play is not down to one of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern’s interminable coin-flips; it is a clear labour of love from all concerned.