Game of Thrones: The Mad King – RSC Stratford Upon Avon

There is a particular excitement that accompanies a genuine theatrical event: not simply another adaptation of a familiar property, but the sense that a production is attempting something genuinely ambitious. Three days before its official press night, the Royal Shakespeare Company’s preview of Game of Thrones: The Mad King already feels like one of those rare occasions where expectation meets execution.

Running for well over three and a half hours, with just a single twenty-minute interval, this is epic theatre in every sense. Remarkably, it rarely feels overextended. Director Dominic Cooke maintains an unerring grip on the pacing, while adaptor Duncan Macmillan has achieved something that should perhaps have been impossible: distilling George R.R. Martin’s vast mythology into a work that satisfies devoted followers whilst remaining entirely comprehensible for those who have never ventured into Westeros.

Rather than attempting to retell familiar events, Macmillan and Martin focus on the years before A Song of Ice and Fire, illuminating the political and personal fractures that ultimately shape everything that follows. Long-time readers and viewers will recognise countless revelations, while newcomers simply encounter a compelling dynastic tragedy rich in betrayal, ambition and impossible choices.

The Shakespearean DNA is unmistakable. Martin’s debt to the histories has never been hidden, and here the connections become wonderfully explicit. Echoes of Romeo and Juliet permeate its doomed romance, King Lear informs the tragedy of fathers and children, while Macbeth casts its shadow over prophecy, tyranny and moral collapse. Above all, it is the Wars of the Roses cycle—from Richard II through the Henry plays to Richard III—that provides the production’s clearest theatrical touchstone, as rival houses destroy themselves through pride, vengeance and inherited grievance.

There is, too, a pleasing sense of inevitability about this production finding its home at the Royal Shakespeare Company. Martin has long acknowledged Shakespeare’s histories as a profound influence, and Cooke and Macmillan embrace that lineage with confidence. Far from feeling like an unexpected diversion for the RSC, The Mad King feels entirely at home on a stage dedicated to the very dramatist whose themes of dynastic conflict, ambition and the corrosive pursuit of power helped shape Westeros itself.

Yet this never feels like Shakespeare in fantasy costume. While occasional flourishes edge towards the overly rhetorical, the adaptation remains startlingly assured, finding a theatrical language entirely its own. Working closely with Martin himself, Macmillan draws previously overlooked nuances from the source material, presenting familiar events from perspectives that subtly but profoundly alter our understanding of later characters. Robert Baratheon and King Aerys II, in particular, emerge as considerably more complex figures than many fans may have assumed, while one legendary mystery surrounding the Knight of the Laughing Tree is explored with enough delicacy to reward devotees without spoiling surprises.

Perhaps most strikingly, this version consciously shifts history away from the traditional tales of kings and warriors towards the women whose voices have so often been confined to the margins. Through conversations and deeply affecting exchanges of letters, Lyanna Stark, Elia Martell, Ashara Dayne and Queen Rhaella are no longer simply catalysts for men’s actions but become fully realised protagonists in their own right. Their emotional perspectives lend the production a humanity that balances its considerable political intrigue. Elia Martell, in particular, assumes an almost Shakespearean stature, emerging as a Westerosi Queen Margaret: politically astute, emotionally resilient and ultimately trapped within the ambitions and brutality of the men around her.

Chloe Lamford’s set design is deceptively simple: a cross-traverse stage within the RSC’s vast in-the-round auditorium, crowned by a commanding metallic arc that transforms effortlessly from throne room to battlefield, tournament ground to private chamber. Audiences sit almost cheek by jowl with the performers, enjoying both intimate proximity during the production’s quietest moments and ringside seats for its grandest spectacles.

What elevates the production still further is the remarkable synthesis of the creative team. Lamford’s architecture, Georgia McGuinness’s richly textured costumes, Jon Clark’s atmospheric lighting, Tom Gibbons’ immersive sound design, Will Stuart’s evocative score, and the movement and puppetry direction of Nick Barnes and Finn Caldwell combine seamlessly with Dominic Cooke’s assured direction to create a world that feels utterly authentic. Every creative discipline serves the storytelling. No individual element clamours for attention; instead, each complements the next until the audience is drawn completely into Martin’s world.

The battle sequences are a particular triumph. Rather than relying on extended fight choreography, movement, lighting and precisely judged blackouts combine with stylised slow-motion action to generate extraordinary tension while preserving complete clarity. The audience is invited to imagine the brutality rather than merely witness it, making the experience infinitely more visceral than conventional stage combat could ever achieve.

The production’s greatest visual achievement, however, is undoubtedly its puppetry. Barnes and Caldwell, whose work inevitably recalls War Horse, bring horses, ravens, hunting dogs and most thrillingly dragons to animated life. More extraordinary still are the giant puppet manifestations of principal characters that emerge seamlessly alongside their human counterparts before dissolving back into the ensemble. These moments never feel gimmicky or self-conscious; instead, they become an integral part of the production’s visual language, lending the unfolding tragedy an almost mythic grandeur.

With a company of thirty-nine named performers, there is scarcely a weak link. Harmony Rose-Bremner gives Lyanna Stark a fierce intelligence that quietly commands every scene she inhabits, while Elizabeth Ayodele invests Elia Martell with immense dignity, political acuity and emotional depth. Tanisha Spring’s Ashara Dayne brings warmth and melancholy in equal measure, and Mariah Gale lends Queen Rhaella a quiet resilience that proves deeply affecting.

Noah Ritter presents Prince Rhaegar as a thoughtful, introspective figure whose burden feels almost palpable, capturing both the idealism and fatalism that make him one of Martin’s most enduring creations. Callum Woodhouse’s Robert Baratheon provides invaluable context for the swaggering, disillusioned king audiences later encounter in Game of Thrones, revealing the wounds, compromises and lost innocence that shaped the man behind the legend.

Michael Schaeffer’s King Aerys II deserves particular praise. His performance shifts effortlessly between vulnerability, paranoia and terrifying cruelty, creating a ruler who is simultaneously monstrous and deeply tragic. It would be easy to portray the Mad King as little more than a theatrical villain; Schaeffer instead reveals the fractured humanity beneath the madness, his early confrontation with Robert is one of the production’s defining moments. It unfolds not as a simple clash between hero and tyrant but as an encounter charged with heartbreaking inevitability.

Alexander Newland brings the expected nobility and unwavering integrity to Eddard Stark, grounding the drama with quiet authority, while Hughie O’Donnell enjoys a scene-stealing cameo as Varys, adopting an appearance that amusingly evokes a theatrical Dr Evil without ever reducing the Spider to mere comic relief. Instead, his measured interventions provide perfectly judged moments of levity amid the gathering political storm.

For devoted fans, there are countless Easter eggs and carefully placed references woven throughout that reward close attention without ever becoming exclusionary. Those unfamiliar with Martin’s world will simply experience an engrossing historical tragedy of dynastic conflict, forbidden love and the corrosive pursuit of power. That accessibility may ultimately prove the production’s greatest achievement.

Preview performances inevitably contain moments still settling into place, and some refinement before press night is only to be expected. A handful of scenes in the second half briefly lose momentum as the production pauses to establish political relationships that will resonate most strongly with seasoned followers of the saga. Tightening those transitions would sharpen an already formidable evening, but they remain fleeting lulls rather than structural flaws.

What is already evident, however, is that Game of Thrones: The Mad King is far more than a theatrical adaptation of a global phenomenon. It is a bold, intelligent and emotionally resonant piece of theatre that stands confidently alongside the Shakespearean histories that inspired George R.R. Martin in the first place.

Whether you arrive as a sworn citizen of Westeros or unable to tell a Stark from a Targaryen, this production rewards you equally. It demonstrates that the greatest fantasy has never really been about dragons or magic, but about timeless human truths: ambition unchecked, love sacrificed to duty, families torn apart by pride, and flawed men and women destroying themselves in pursuit of power.

There is a quiet irony that one of the most compelling new works to appear on the Royal Shakespeare Company’s stage is rooted in a fictional world created half a millennium after Shakespeare. Yet The Mad King makes that lineage feel entirely natural. It reminds us that the themes animating the histories remain as potent today as they were four centuries ago, merely clothed in different names, different kingdoms and, occasionally, dragons.

Magnificent in scale, exhilarating in execution and emotionally absorbing from first scene to last, this is event theatre in the truest sense of the phrase: a production that not only meets the enormous expectations surrounding it but surpasses them.

Verdict: Shakespeare’s shadow looms large over a magnificent return to Westeros.

Reviewer: Paul Wilcox

Reviewed: 4th August 2026

North West End UK Rating:

Note: This review is based on a preview performance attended three days before the official press night. As with all preview performances, elements of the production may be subject to refinement before opening.