Arthur Miller's mid-1950s masterpiece is so meticulously constructed that Alan Ayckbourn once characterised it as a theatrical machine which, once wound up, practically plays itself. It is a little more complex than that, of course, though it remains true that the dramatic parameters are so specifically defines that it can be difficult to determine what distinguishes an inspired production from a merely competent account.
In the end you could argue that it all boils down to the pasta. Miller's distinct achievement with this play was to unleash Attic emotions within an attic apartment, containing the reverberations of classical tragedy within a confined domestic space. It follows that certain key scenes revolve around the presentation and consumption of food. If things are flowing well, one has the invigorating sense of a convivially contentious American-Italian mealtime. If not, it can feel very much like an awkward group of actors playing with their food.
Mark Babych's staging passes the pasta test with aplomb, and adds further distinguishing features in Ivan Stott's jazz-tinted score. The acting is also of consistently fine quality, with a palpable homoerotic tension building up between James Kristian's sweetly charming Rodolpho and Damian Myerscough's tormented, inarticulate Eddie.
As Eddie's gamine niece, Catherine Kinsella perfectly captures the confusion of a young woman whose sexuality has caught her unawares. And Freya Copeland's Beatrice is a fine example of Miller's stoic women, mopping up the blood, sweat and tears of the menfolk with quiet dignity. A View from the Bridge is by no means an under-produced play. But Miller stated that the job of the artist is "to remind people of what they have chosen to forget". It's easy to forget just what an outstanding piece of theatrical craftsmanship this is.
· Until February 25. Box office: 01204 520661.
