The Misanthrope

When I first saw Crimp's version at the Young Vic with Ken Stott in the leading role I thought it was the best production of The Misanthrope I had seen since the legendary production with Alec McGowan and Diana Rigg at the National Theatre and wondered why no management had picked it up.

Fourteen years on, Crimp's expletive-driven, name-dropping rhyming couplets have lost none of their wit and sting. But the play no longer seems as good as I had remembered it to be.

Thea Sharrock's production doesn't really come to life until after the interval. The fault lies with the casting of at least three roles and that, regrettably, includes the lead actor.

Alceste has the habit of speaking his mind. Appalled by the hypocrisy and the moral bankruptcy he sees everywhere, he castigates everybody. His misanthropy is so exaggerated as to make him a joke, yet he is the only character you care about.

He is a comic yet tragic figure, who is so besotted that he thinks the shallow, outrageous flirt he loves will automatically renounce showbiz camp and bitch and come and live with him in suburbia.

However, Damian Lewis has the vitriol but none of the redeeming charm. He is neither comic nor tragic and his clothes do him no favours.

All those people who presumed that Keira Knightley was bound to come a cropper on stage, are going to be very surprised at just how good she is - the nastier Moliere gets, the better she is.

Runs until March 13. Box office: (0844) 871-7622