Insufficent decadence

The Duchess Of Malfi | Barbican Theatre, London

Hell, surely - for all these characters' fear of it - is empty, and all the devils are in The Duchess of Malfi. So why is the first thing we see in Gale Edwards's production a string of balloons? They turn out to be the décor in a disco where dancers grind and a saucy girl shows a cardinal her stocking tops. As a symbol of decadence, this is pretty pale, not only in comparison with any night's TV but with nearly every line of Webster's play.

Hell, surely - for all these characters' fear of it - is empty, and all the devils are in The Duchess of Malfi. So why is the first thing we see in Gale Edwards's production a string of balloons? They turn out to be the décor in a disco where dancers grind and a saucy girl shows a cardinal her stocking tops. As a symbol of decadence, this is pretty pale, not only in comparison with any night's TV but with nearly every line of Webster's play.

The actresses look handsome in Fifties ballgowns, the actors sinister in slimy black, but the production fails to generate sufficient tension. Portentous effects come over as banal or silly: the huge cross against which Ken Bones's cardinal humps his mistress, or the madmen, stacked three deep in co-ordinated ripped clothing, like an avant-garde Harvey Nichols window.

The performances are uneven. Bones's chilling stillness sharpens the horror when, trying to escape his assassin, he waves his arms and legs like an upturned insect. Colin Tierney's Ferdinand is a kind of hooray gone very wrong, running his finger over his sister's bare shoulder in a way that is not at all reassuring. And Richard Lintern, as the duchess's secret husband, is an Antonio of quiet strength and unobtrusive charm.

Aisling O'Sullivan not only walks and talks in a manner completely unlike her brothers, she looks far too corn-fed and capable to be their victim. As the hired killer Bosola, Tom Mannion, so good in comic and heroic parts, is also miscast; tentative rather than shifty, he doesn't get dangerous until well into the second half, when the production belatedly comes together. That second half contains the most effective bit of business, a shock that drew screams despite using no elaborate effects. With pity, as with terror, simple is best.

To 18 Nov (020-7628 2295)