Present Laughter, National Theatre: Lyttelton, London

Howard Davies's production of Present Laughter, the Noël Coward play with a portrait of the artist as a middle-aged matinée idol at the centre, is a marvel of comic brio and farcical panache. A few caveats first and then the delights.

Much is made in the programme of the fact that Coward wrote the play (a very funny mix of self-awareness and self-adulation) in the spring of 1939 in the knowledge that, with war looming, the planned staging would have to be postponed (as indeed it was). But I don't see why the production makes such a meal of this. It has the confusing effect of making the pre-War Garry Essendine and his entourage look like prize ostriches and his forthcoming rep trip to Africa seem insane.

And the set, though lovely, suggests that Garry and his interior decorators could teach Versailles a thing or two about lavishness.

Now for the terrific treats the show offers – the principal being a top-notch cast headed by an actor at the peak of his comic powers.

Alex Jennings was superb as (the second) Professor Higgins in Trevor Nunn's production of My Fair Lady. In the role of Garry, he draws on similar talents and surpasses them. There's the electric wit and stage-filling charisma, as well as the boyishness that makes people want to mother and strangle him.

Jennings can do egotistic exasperation along a higher and more subtly rising scale than any other actor and it's funny because you can see how the character is having the time of his life even as he's complaining that it's the worst day of his existence.

But there are splendid performances all round as the cast portray the people who farcically collide as Garry prepares for his trip abroad. Sarah Woodward is hilarious as his sharp-tongued and devoted secretary, and Sara Stewart brings a fine, amused poise to his resourceful first wife.

I was particularly impressed by Pip Carter in the difficult part of Roland Maule, the nerd from Uckminster who wants to be an avant-garde playwright. Carter exploits the idea that Maule's initial antagonism towards Garry is the sign of almost gay infatuation. He becomes a mix of adoring puppy and unnervingly self-convinced stalker.

It's a pity that the play misogynistically demonises Joanna (Lisa Dillon), whose predatory libido poses a threat to Garry's group. Double standards, in that respect, mar what is otherwise a singularly successful evening.

In rep to 9 January (020-7452 3000)