THEATRE / Double take on a royal flush: Paul Taylor on a stirring new adaptation of Anthony Hope's Ruritanian romance The Prisoner of Zenda at Greenwich

IT'S possible that I've started to hallucinate and should resign from this job forthwith, but I could have sworn I saw a large Christmas tree decorating the court at one point in the new RSC Hamlet. And just the night before, at the opening of Misery, there had been another improbable yuletide touch - a scene (found in neither the book nor the film) where the psychotic fan celebrated Christmas Day with her prisoner patient and even wore a roguish Santa hat to give him his presents. There was a tree there, too, if I'm not mistaken . . .

I'd decided that if any bauble-laden firs hove into view during The Prisoner of Zenda, this year's festive offering at Greenwich, I was going to go and have a thorough check-up. But a refreshing absence of seasonal references (as though any of us need reminding) is one of the many appealing features of Matthew Francis' stirring adaptation and production. Aimed at people from eight years upwards, it is high-class escapist entertainment that both takes you out of yourself and gives you a welcome break from the trappings and wrappings of Christmas.

Swashbuckling panache and sly puckishness, the stiff upper lip and the tongue in cheek are attractively balanced in a show that permits affectionate laughter at some of the more po-faced and 'manly' moments in Hope's story without ever violating its romantic spirit. Playing the pair of lookalikes at the centre of the piece, David Haig is in captivating form: both as Prince Rudolph, the childish, pampered, unsuitable heir to the Ruritanian throne and his distant cousin, the 'English D'Artagnan' Rassendyll, who has to act as his stand-in at the coronation and play at being king when the true royal is kidnapped. Scenes where they have to appear on stage together are wittily negotiated either by distracting the audience (with, among other things, a huge wild boar noisily shot at point-blank range) or by droll staging (as in the scene where both men are drunk on a seat placed with its back to us and Haig keeps trying to stagger to his feet, first as one then the other).

The adaptation has been skilfully done. Instead of the slow English start, Francis plunges us into the heart of Ruritania's dynastic conflict. Nicholas Gecks's twisted, pasty-faced malcontent Black Michael, the dying king's unacknowledged bastard, is seen frenziedly beating on the door of the sick room. From then on, the story, which involves much location-switching, moves seamlessly (and to a rousing accompaniment of Hungarian-sounding violin tunes) around Lez Brotherston's clever multi-purpose set of sweeping stairs, bridges and ropes.

Mark Lockyer makes a charismatically dissolute Rupert of Hentzau and gives the climactic sword-fight with Rassendyll a splendidly sarcastic verve. And the comedy and sadness of being a pretend-king are both finely communicated by Haig, the latter in awkward, heartfelt love scenes with Princess Flavia (Leonie Mellinger). For, though this is in no way a profound work, it touches on themes (kingship and play-acting; doppelganger and impostures) that has an odd resonance even in an adventure yarn. A worthwhile return to Zenda.

The Greenwich Theatre, London SE10 (081-858 7755).

(Photograph omitted)