On the Razzle, Festival Theatre, Chichester

The wurst is yet to come

If, like me, you feel something within you die a little each time you hear a pun, stay away from On the Razzle. After this evening of Tom Stoppard's wordplay, I could barely crawl, weeping, to the railway station. The worst offender is Herr Zangler, a prosperous grocer on the outskirts of Vienna, the Mr Malaprop of the piece. Announcing that he is to marry the owner of a boutique, he bristles when his housekeeper says, "It's a betrothal,'' and corrects her: "It is not! It's a hat-and-coat shop!'' All dressed up to plight his troth, he marches out, the cock of the walk -- or, as he puts it, to plait his truss, like the cake of the week. The pills are starting to help now.

The main characters and plot come from Einen Jux will er sich machen, written in 1842 by Johann Nestroy of Vienna, but the dialogue is Stoppard's own, not a translation. Thornton Wilder titled his adaptation The Matchmaker after a character he added, and, as we know, Jerry Herman thought it could be improved with a few songs. (The Wilder play is a treat, but anyone subjected to the musical might think that any play without Dolly Levi has a lot going for it.)

In this, the original story, a clerk in a fancy-foods shop, desperate to "acquire a past before it gets too late,'' steals off to Vienna with his assistant for a gay night out, but they keep nearly running into their boss, who thinks they are minding the shop. With pace and joie de vivre, a more animated production than Peter Wood's might whip up a mood of happy insanity. But this schleps wearily from joke to joke, failing to exploit potentially comic moments (when the clerks hide by pretending to be shop-window mannequins, they stand quite still, and the grocer never threatens to turn round at the wrong moment). The play has opportunities for visual razzle-dazzle, but John Gunter's set has about as much flair as a blank postcard. Deirdre Clancy's costumes are just average.

As the grocer, Desmond Barrit seems ill at ease, at times even doleful ­ understandable, though, with a character whose personality shifts to accommodate his jokes. (The manipulative nature of this type of comedy can become oppressive. A restaurant must have Chinese decor so a character can say, "Chink glasses,'' and another can reply, "Are they?''; but it must serve German food so diners can be told ­ sensitive readers look away ­ "The wurst is yet to come.'')

David Bamber is extremely likeable as the older clerk, whose defiance results in, first, hysteria, then contentment. As the younger one, Daisy Donovan (Stoppard keeps the Viennese tradition of girls playing pretty boys) is enchanting; her delight with each new piece of pleasure is like a child's reaction to an unexpected new toy.

To 14 July (01243 781312)