The RSC continues its London season at the Roundhouse with a revival of Shakespeare’s Roman play.

The production begins, in a sequence inspired by the photography of Eadweard Muybridge, with Romulus and Remus grappling to the death. The empty stage echoes with the slap of skin on skin as a city is birthed in blood.

Director Lucy Bailey, whose previous work includes a stand-out and memorably bloody Titus Andronicus at the Globe, seems comfortable with the large-scale requirements of the play and embraces the sandals-and-togas aesthetic fully, citing HBO’s Rome as a key influence.

Though saying this, designer William Dudley’s use of digital projections to background the action - showing the city in flames and Caesar’s statue crumbling to dust - do ever so occasionally also bring to mind the CGI cityscape of the rather less prestigious Spartacus: Blood and Sand.  But though sometimes jarring, these projections do allow Bailey to conquer the crowd scenes, multiplying the number of bodies on stage, in a stylized yet striking hall-of-mirrors effect.

Greg Hicks is a showman Caesar, theatrical in manner and aware of the impact of his every action. Even his “Et tu, Brute?” appears spoken as much for the effect it will have on those bloodying their hands as out of a sense of grief at his betrayal by his friend.

Sam Troughton, who recently starred in Rupert Goold’s acclaimed RSC Romeo and Juliet, provides the play with its most nuanced performance as a deceptively boyish Brutus. Initially he is confident, noble, and ever so slightly smug, but by the end he is a man worn down and haunted by the consequences of his actions; he seems to age visibly as the play progresses.

Darrell D’Silva’s Marc Antony is also impressive, especially during his pivotal speech. Against all this, John Mackay’s nervy and wiry Cassius rather fades into the background.

The momentum of the first half is considerable; after the brief opening scene the production explodes with the cacophony of Rome. The shorter second half, though laden with battle scenes and underscored by the ominous pulse of drums, sacrifices some of this drive. 

Natasha Tripney