Eddie Izzard goes solo in ‘Hamlet’ now at the Montalbán Theatre

To be or not to be, that is the question for a solo version of Shakespeare’s “Hamlet.”

Eddie Izzard, the wry, gender-fluid British comedian who came to attention with a stream of observational drollery that picked away at common sense, takes on the whole teeming tragedy. This Shakespearean traveling show, now at the Montalbán Theatre in Hollywood through Saturday, is a daredevil feat of memory, theatrical bravado and cardio fitness.

As a spectacle, it’s as exhilarating as it is exhausting. The thrill of seeing a fearless, indefatigable performer single-handedly populate the stage with the myriad figures of this masterwork never lets up. But fatigue can’t help setting in once it becomes clear that this marathon drama will be delivered in the broadest of strokes.

The plot’s the thing for Izzard, who brought a solo version of Charles Dickens’ similarly sprawling “Great Expectations” to the stage. Izzard has won praise as a dramatic actor, excelling in plays by David Mamet and Peter Nichols, but here seems content to stick to story-time mode.

The striking aspect of this “Hamlet,” directed by Selina Cadell on a bare stage, is just how straightforward it is. There are few scenic accouterments other than some fabulously eerie lighting, suspenseful sound effects and heavy-handed underscoring. Izzard’s costume, evening wear built for battle, had me imagining Margaret Thatcher at Studio 54 in the early 1980s.

The adaptation by Mark Izzard (Izzard’s brother who also adapted “Great Expectations”) strives to cram in as much of the play as possible, even if it means that for long stretches Izzard must deliver Shakespeare’s lines at breakneck speed. A structurally remodeled “Hamlet” with a minimalist bent would have made more sense. But that would require an interpretive vision that the cuts, rearrangements and distracting instances of rewording fail to supply.

Greeting theatergoers at the start of the performance, Izzard advises that if anyone has come under the mistaken impression that this is a new comedy act, the time to escape is now. No one seemed to heed the charming warning.

Izzard, who has a background as a street performer, feels a kinship with Elizabethan players, who like stand-up comics, maintained a lively rapport with their audience. This “Hamlet” isn’t a dainty affair but a colorful attack meant to reanimate a cracking good tale.

But a plot, no matter how engrossing, can’t shoulder the burden alone. A well-known story needs a fresh point of view. The novelty here is a performer testing physical, mental and logistical limits. But as “Hamlet” revivals go, there’s not much insight to be gained from this Herculean undertaking.

The comedy bits work best. Izzard treats Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, Hamlet’s old buddies sent to spy on him, as sock pockets (minus the socks). The banter between Hamlet and the gravedigger allows for the kind of witty wordplay that is Izzard’s stand-up stock-in-trade.

Claudius comes across as a sinister puffed-up phony. Polonius isn’t so much a pompous old fart as a preeminent courtier anxious not to lose his privileged status. Horatio, who can admittedly get lost in the woodwork, barely registers.

But Izzard has a way of making the movers and shakers at Elsinore seem as familiar as workplace colleagues. The ghost, on the other hand, who speaks in a creepy monotone, is like a relic of a long defunct amateur troupe.

Gender is no barrier for Izzard, who uses she/her pronouns and has added the name Suzy (though for this “Hamlet,” the billing is simply Eddie Izzard). Gertrude never quite comes into focus, but the pathos of Ophelia, maddened by grief, is enhanced by the simple yet forceful way Izzard helplessly pounds her chest.

Hamlet, alone on stage, is what most of us remember from our outings with the tragedy. Izzard is so verbally adept that perhaps I expected too much from the soliloquies. The “To be, or not to be” monologue came across as a rhetorical set piece that Hamlet has been polishing for ages. There’s a little too much hand jive in other speeches. The emotional meaning of Shakespeare doesn’t need to be manually conducted.

But it’s not easy to sustain an inner intensity when acting in isolation. Izzard must surge and replenish her performance on her own. The self-generating powers on display are awesome to witness. Even in a bulky knee brace, Izzard goes all out in the final act duel between Hamlet and Laertes.

By this point audiences might be tapping into their own reserves. Izzard deserves a medal for athletic effort, but what I’ll remember most are a few passing moments in which the dramatic poetry was illuminated with an everyday realism that made the more than 400 years separating our world from Shakespeare’s seem like no distance at all.