Sometimes everything is in place – splendid cast, interestingly neglected classic text, thoughtful director – and yet the production just lies there, inert, on the stage. That’s what’s happened with Tom Littler’s revival of August Strindberg’s triangular psychodrama from 1888, starring the septuagenarian power trio of Charles Dance, Geraldine James and Nicholas Farrell.
The casting of charismatic older actors could add an edge of urgency to the characters’ vengeful score-settling, but instead this is a humdrum, talky, and unmoving 85 minutes. Partly it’s that Howard Brenton’s adaptation sounds more quaint and Victorian than older translations. But mostly it’s that the mind games and power plays unfold with all the gravitas of a light drawing-room comedy. It would take a heart of stone not to laugh at the ridiculously overblown conclusion.
