Oneika Phillips, Sabrina Lynne Sawyer, and Burgess Byrd Photo by Mikki Schaffner

As with several previous Gunderson works, this one is a reimagining of a play by William Shakespeare, in this case Hamlet from around 1600, exploring the tragedy's women and offering an intriguing new ending. For this retelling, none of Shakespeare's male characters appear, although their presence is occasionally marked by a projection, such as "Hamlet speaks," overlaid by a snatch of cacophonous music. At such moments Gunderson's characters respond with genuine Shakespearean lines. But generally, they speak with contemporary, vernacular American English.

The play has just three characters: Ophelia (Sabrina Lynne Sawyer), Prince Hamlet's Ophelia, on-again, off-again fiancée; her lady-in-waiting, Anna (Burgess Byrd); and Queen Gertrude (Oneika Phillips), Prince Hamlet's mother. They perform in reaction to the play's familiar moments but offer very different, new perspectives and strategies. Anna, a role newly invented by Gunderson, is a staunch, protective confidante for Ophelia.

The story opens with sensitive, heartfelt Ophelia in her bedchamber trying out a song she has conceived for St. Valentine's day. She strums her guitar and struggles with writing lyrics to express her romantic, adolescent feelings for the unpredictable prince whom her father and brother disapprove of. Anna offers reassurances, but when imperious Queen Gertrude sweeps in to lock down Ophelia's imminent marriage to her erratic son, the young woman's anxiety comes to the foreground. The daughter of the high-level royal advisor Polonius, she is not royalty and feels unprepared for the role the Queen is forcing upon her. What's more, since Hamlet has returned to Denmark for his father's funeral and his mother's marriage to his uncle, his behavior has become unpredictably mercurial and his feelings for Ophelia swing wildly.

Familiar events of Hamlet–the play-within-the-play that Hamlet conceives to implicate his uncle in his father's death, the inadvertent murder of Polonius–are referenced but not portrayed. Instead, Ophelia expresses her fears and hopes, encouraged by Anna and eventually counseled by Gertrude, who hopes for a better outcome for the young woman than the queen herself experienced as a woman caught up in the fates and fortunes of Shakespeare's male characters. The women in "the room" conceive a scheme to preserve Ophelia's life, a staged suicide and an escape. We also witness Gertrude's adoption of a newfound if fatal agency.

Gunderson's clever script reduces Shakespeare's longest play to about 85 minutes, without intermission. Dunn's direction keeps the action focused but hurtling forward. Moments when Shakespearean lines are noted, they are swiftly marked by rapid, dreamlike motions by the actresses and a wavering lighting effect. (Max Doolittle is the lighting designer.)

Scenic designer Samantha Reno's two-level set is both stark and functional. Backed by Elsinore's cold stone walls and floor thrusting toward the audience, the stepped-down front apron is festooned with river greenery. Cincinnati Shakespeare's intimate theater means front-row seats are exceptionally close, so when Ophelia's mad scene happens, she hands herbs and blooms–"rosemary, that's for remembrance," plus fennel, daisies, and violets–directly to seated patrons. High above the stage floor is a balcony for Queen Gertrude's posh chamber; Dunn repeatedly has Phillips come forward to a railing from which she can oversee the action and represent her restrained royal position.

The three actors are all women of color, a fact not overtly relevant to the tale being told, but one that brings the story closer to modern attitudes and sensitives. They are attired in wholly contemporary clothing, designed by Nicky Smith. Sawyer's Ophelia wears sneakers, shorts and a t-shirt initially; when she dons a dress, it hangs loosely, and when she dresses for her escape in a shapeless robe and a hat to contain her wild hair, it's only a thin disguise. As Gertrude, Phillips wears stately, chic, off-the-shoulder gowns and stylish heels that underscore her royal demeanor. Byrd's Anna performs in muted, businesslike pants suits, appropriate to her role as a serviceable attendant. As she becomes more assertive when she proposes her suggestions to preserve Ophelia's life, her clothing remains the same, but feels appropriate for a worthy adviser, and Gertrude takes Anna's advice.

This is a smartly acted production. Sawyer's Ophelia evolves from an angsty teen to a young woman with a path to a different future than Shakespeare crafted. Byrd's Anna, while a new creation, provides motherly devotion to Ophelia, keeping her from drifting into a difficult future. And as Gertrude, Phillips evolves convincingly from a stately queen who demands respect to a careful conspirator who resolutely charts her next steps. A scene with the trio getting amusingly drunk and confiding with one another is the hinge that delivers–with considerable hilarity–to their newfound agency.

A Room in the Castle is a thoughtful, entertaining extension of these characters, fleshing them out in ways that make sense in today's world. The play does not demand a profound familiarity with Shakespeare's tragedy, but such knowledge can provide a deeper appreciation of Gunderson's skillful adaptation. Regardless, audiences in Cincinnati and Washington, D.C., are in for a treat with this excellent modern rendition of women from a long-ago classic tale.

A Room in the Castle runs through February 9, 2025, at Cincinnati Shakespeare Company, 1195 Elm Street, Cincinnati OH. For tickets and information, please visit cincyshakes.com or call 513-381-2773.