Molière's play has not had a happy performance history. It has provoked hostility and all but disappeared from the repertoire after its 1665 premiere, which led to its author being condemned as a freethinker. But it has slowly been coming back into vogue, and Simon Nye's wonderful, juicy new translation combines with Michael Grandage's razor-sharp production to make this slight piece seem quite essential, particularly at a time when the role of boys and men is so under discussion.
A recent report suggested that adulthood now begins only in the mid-30s, and the evening is cleverly pitched as a portrait of a man who refuses to grow up. Tom Hollander's Don Juan is a monstrous cherub, a Peter Pan of the rumpled bed sheets who thinks life is one long bedroom romp. He is a love 'em and leave 'em champion, a serial bigamist who thrills to the chase but can't settle to the day-to-day reality of married life. In our own day, the child-support agency would have a file on him as thick as a telephone directory.
Unlike some of Molière's more familiar works, which explore particular aspects of human nature, there is a butterfly aspect to this play: it alights on various issues - the nature of love, religious belief, hypocrisy - without going into any of them in detail. Again the team turn this to their advantage, setting the play in a landscape that is both then and now. Designed by Christopher Oram, the town square is a place where the walls should be covered with frescoes but instead have faded posters for lap-dancing clubs. And this jolly descent into hell owes as much to Foucault as it does to Faust. Don Juan is not just a little boy lost with no role to play, but also a man with nothing to believe in. He has reached the end of history.
The performances have all the zing of the text, and at the centre of the production are two outstanding actors. Anthony O'Donnell brings a down-to-earth comic despair to Sganarelle, while Hollander peeps bashfully from under his eyelashes, like a choirboy who has been caught looking at pornography in the pews.
Until October 20. Box office: 0114-249 6000.
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