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Saturday, 30 August 2025

Theatre review: Fat Ham

After Hamlet on the Titanic and a musical version set to Radiohead* the RSC has its third go at the story this year: I've not got the best history with the Pulitzer Prize for Drama, having found a number of past winners underwhelming at best, but in general it still seems to be a respected award, so James Ijames' 2022 winner must have made for one of the few times actors have actively wanted to be called Fat Ham. Fat Ham, I hear it and I know, Fat Ham, Fat Ham, I know you wanna take me home, Fat Ham, and get to know me close, Fat Ham, Fat Ham, when your heart goes Fat Ham is a self-aware, modern-day adaptation of Hamlet that takes the "ham" part of the title (and, I guess, the Danish part of the story) and turns the royal family into one that's made a living out of pork products, raising pigs, butchering them and cooking them in their restaurant.

This bloodthirsty nature has extended beyond the kitchen though, and the head of the family was in prison for murder when he himself was shanked and killed, a week before we join the story - his wreath still needs to be cleared out of the garden where a barbecue is about to start.


His son Juicy (Olisa Odele) is a very different character: Gentle, introverted and with the main ambition of getting an online degree in HR, he's enigmatic even to himself: He's definitely LGBTQ+ in some way, but hasn't quite figured out what flavour of queer he is yet†. So he definitely isn't up for the drama of his father Pap appearing to him in ghost form to say his murder was arranged by his brother Rev, who's already moved in on his widow - the barbecue is to celebrate his wedding to Tedra (Andi Osho.)


The play transposes eight key Hamlet characters (in one of many references to the original and how it's often staged, Sule Rimi plays both Rev and Pap,) to a remote part of the American South: Polonius becomes Rabby (Sandra Marvin,) an old family friend and loud, religious hypocrite, who's there with her children: Juicy grew up as best friends with Larry (Corey Montague-Sholay,) now a closeted soldier, and his sister Opal (Jasmine Elcock,) a lesbian who feels trapped by her mother's expectations.


The play does deal with grief and very modern ways in which it's complicated - both father and stepfather are violently disapproving of Juicy's "gentleness," but it doesn't mean he doesn't have feelings about the former's death and the latter's crimes. But its main focus is on mining the situation for all the comedy and ridiculousness of transplanting the grand revenge tragedy to such a different context.


It hits the ground running with the very funny Astonishing Coup de ThéâtreTM of tablecloths flying across the stage to turn into Rimi's ghost, menacing even as it absurdly leaks smoke from its costume (illusions by Skylar Fox.) But the real strength of Saheem Ali's production, re-directed for the Swan by Sideeq Heard, is in its relentless pace - the speed and energy with which the action gets run through in 100 minutes keeps a sort of hysteria going. And even when it looks like the show's gone a bit more introspective it doesn't stay that way long, with the return of Kieran Taylor-Ford's Horatio figure Tio, and his stoned monologue about preferring "gingerbread lady fellatios" taking things to a different comic absurd.


All the characters are aware of the audience to some extent or other from the start, and they increasingly become aware of precisely which play they're in as well, but the metatheatrical ending still feels a bit abrupt - it's a fun party finale but still one that feels like Ijames couldn't find a natural end to the story without the original bloodbath. Which, while it's definitely among the better ones I've seen, means the play doesn't dispel my feeling that the Pulitzer judges tend to award the idea regardless of the execution. But wobbly ending aside this is a fun brand of self-aware weirdness with Odele throwing a bit of genuine heart into the mix as well.

Fat Ham by James Ijames is booking until the 13th of September at the Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon.

Running time: 1 hour 40 minutes straight through.

Photo credit: Ali Wright.

*not even the only one, since this play also sees Juicy do "Creep" at karaoke

†he may well be Ace, which is not an entirely out-there interpretation of Shakespeare's version of the character either

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