What a shame then that its novelty wears off so quickly. The play’s characters are mostly black inkblots that cavort against patterned backgrounds and are rarely anchored to a recognisable set. Hamlet’s sword has a pen nib at its point, belabouring the concept that this is a ‘drawn’ version. While there can be no doubt that ample craft went into the creation of this work, the lack of variety in the panels and repetitive framing fail to sustain interest and are no match for the powerful prose. The artwork proves in the end to be more of a distraction than an enhancement.

Quite who this graphic interpretation is aimed at is something of a conundrum. Greenberg’s great work in children’s illustration is echoed strongly here, but sits oddly alongside scenes of Ophelia melting under Hamlet’s rebuttal, as if dissolved by acid and Queen Gertrude’s sextet of pert breasts, on show at all times. The niggling feeling lingers throughout this tome that the artwork has been rendered simply in order to reduce the production time to three years. Still, the Bard deserves more than this. Greenberg’s staging appears impressive, but flatters to deceive.