Cowled figures in sackcloth shuffled, phantom-like, in the aisles, muttering Latin prayers. On stage, a cross shone amid a pall of incense and crimson drapes. A chilling prelude to the play's opening scene – the effect spoiled only slightly the night I saw it as one of the hunched, chanting monks was forced to make way for a theatregoer clutching a pint of Guinness.

Schiller's 1787 work, brought to life by Sovereign Arts and employing a recent – but not colloquial – translation by Mike Poulton, was no mere Enlightenment rant about tyranny. Ostensibly focused on Don Carlos, heir to the Spanish throne, the drama, set in the febrile, heretic-scorching world of 1568, revolved about King Philip II, the monarch under whom Spain reached its apogee in the Golden Age. While the king strove to maintain his grip over the Spanish Netherlands, he was also fighting an emotional battle with the Crown Prince, who was eager to free the Low Countries from his father's bloodthirsty control – a matter complicated by Carlos being dangerously in love with his stepmother, Queen Elizabeth (Lindsay Dukes). Matt Maltby was engaging as the callow, spirited Carlos, struggling to cope with both his emotions and the plots of his enemies (there was more than a hint of Hamlet about the role), but Ed Chalk was the star as Philip; he cut a noble, if misguided, figure burdened by loneliness and his sense of divine mission. Director Will Maynard chose to portray Carlos's tactile friendship with Rodrigo, Marquis of Posa (ably played by Etiene Ekpo-Utip), as verging on the homo-erotic – hinting that this might have played a part in the downfall of the virtuous Marquis at the hands of the jealous Duke of Alba (the beefy, brooding Jacob Lloyd) and crepuscular priest, Domingo (Max Hoehn).

While the play lagged towards the end, this was not to be blamed on the excellent cast. Credit must go, too, to sound designer Alexandra Baxter, for the judicious use of effects such as tolling bells and ominous bass chords.