There have been plenty of productions of Chekhov's great play, about three sisters whose dreams of going to Moscow turn to ashes, where I have been so irritated by the trio that I would have happily offered them the fare to go. Fortunately, in Patrick Sandford's quietly impressive production, they never outstay their welcome.
There is nothing radical about Sandford's production, either in his approach or in the use of Ronald Hingley's old but still lively translation. It boasts good, old-fashioned virtues including clarity, detail, and fine performances. In tone it is perhaps a little too English, although Simon Higlett's design not only demonstrates the social standing of these aristos fallen on hard times but also suggests that it is not just the walls that have cracks in them.
The relationship between the three sisters is central, and this is beautifully done. These women have a giggling, girlish quality. But you also see all the tensions beneath the surface. When Serena Gordon's excellent Olga reacts furiously to Masha's declaration of love for Vershinin, you realise it is because she knows that she would have made Kulygin the better wife. The easy physicality between them contrasts with the increasingly forced way that they touch their brother.
The evening has insight that is revealed in tiny moments: the little skip that Irina gives when she talks of Moscow, the greedy cake-eating that means they have their mouths full when Vershinin first arrives, or Masha so embarrassed by her husband that she comes over all itchy. The play's final quiet desperation is indicated by Irina left clutching the cup of coffee asked for by the doomed Baron, and Masha turning up with a suitcase as the army departs the town.
There is not one dud performance, and there are some superb ones, particularly Gerrard McArthur as the Baron, a hooray henry redeemed by love, and Robert Morgan, ridiculous yet touching as Kulygin.
More problematic is Imogen Stubbs's Masha, who is full of physical tics and inappropriate smiles and giggles. It is the bravest performance of the evening, but not always the wisest, as it risks ceasing to be interesting and becoming mannered. It could still go either way.
Until May 11. Box office: 0238 067 1771.
