At first it seems completely wrong. The Barbican Pit's all-white set hardly conjures up a Sicilian farmyard. But this bare and spare look proves a striking counterpoint to the all-consuming passion at the heart of Giovanni Verga's 1896 play. In this instance cool turns out to be the new hot.
At least it does for part of the evening. The first 15 minutes of Simona Gonella's production are thrillingly good. It is the end of harvest. The villagers are exhausted but relaxed, and spend the evening drinking, singing and dancing. But tension rises as the young widow Pina makes clear her desire to bed, and maybe wed, the casual labourer Nanni, the outsider in the group.
Gonella takes her time in detailing every nuance, every unspoken thought and the relationships of the villagers. This opening scene is almost anthropological. All the intimacies of this close-knit community are laid bare: the way it has cast each of its number a role that they must play, how they all know the rules of the game. It is fascinating and unbearably tense to watch because what is not said is as important as what is spoken. David Lan's adaptation knows this, too, and allows space for the drama to swell naturally.
But if in this terrific piece of foreplay Gonella's production makes the clear connection between sweat and sex, the land and other more earthy desires, it never reaches the expected orgasm in the drama that follows, as Pina's desperation leads her to offer Nanni an appalling deal in which he gets to marry her daughter while sleeping with the mother. In accepting, Nanni damns himself.
Of course the play's attitude towards women is prehistoric, and the Catholic Sicilian code of honour that leads to the final inevitable tragedy remains obscure, despite all Gonella's and Lan's efforts. But it is not these difficulties that scupper the evening. It is the casting. As the lusted-after Nanni, Declan Conlon is just far too bland and seems peculiarly matter-of fact-about his own damnation. And Brid Brennan, a seriously good actress but not one to whom you'd apply the word smouldering, is completely miscast as the sexy, voracious Pina. Together, they struggle to generate the level of electricity you would find in a power cut.
• Until February 24. Box office: 020-7638 8891.
