If one of the jobs of a national theatre is to expose us to great drama, then Moliere's Tartuffe deserves its place in the Lyttelton. Few finer studies of hypocrisy and zeal have been penned; and, as Goethe famously said, the play is symbolic in that each bit of the action points to something more important behind it.
The fascinating question it raises, however, is which is the central character. Is it Tartuffe, the pious fraud? Or Orgon, his credulous victim? In Lindsay Posner's fine, period production there is little doubt where the focus lies once Martin Clunes's Tartuffe enters with a cry of: "My hairshirt may need wringing out." With his looming presence and long, flaxen hair you can believe that Clunes would pass muster as an icon of piety; but the thick, full lips and the manner of gnawing a chicken leg like a ravenous dog betrays the man of inordinate appetite. I've seen some Tartuffes you would not let through the front door. But Clunes's immense power lies in his combination of ecclesiastical bearing and wolfish excess; and it is a subtle touch to show that, when stripped, his back even bears marks of flagellation.
In other words, Posner's production is not simply a farce about a knave and a fool: it becomes a rich comedy about the ability of a self-deceiving hypocrite to prey on a religious fanatic. And David Threlfall's Orgon lends weight to this view by seeming to be in both spiritual and sexual thrall to this particular Tartuffe. With his pointed beard and sombre cassock, Threlfall looks every bit as priestly as his mentor. And, seizing on the hint in Ranjit Bolt's agile translation that "a libertine could not adore his very favourite mistress more" Threlfall cradles the vilified Tartuffe in his arms and strokes his hair with unambiguous delight.
Not everything in the evening is perfect. Ashley Martin-Davis's design, while staging the action in an elegant, revolving, cream-coloured box-set, decorates it with superfluous, neon-lit aphorisms on the lines of "the self is hateful". And one or two supporting performances are a shade noisy. But there is wonderful work from Margaret Tyzack who as Orgon's mother not only exudes thunderous piety but suggests credulity may be genetic. And Debra Gillett as the maid has the perkiness of a young Dora Bryan.
But much of the credit for the evening's success belongs to Bolt's superb translation. In the great seduction scene Claire Holman as Orgon's wife tries to forestall Tartuffe by announcing: "And now you're rushing to the sweet before we've had the soup and meat." The rhymes click perfectly into place matching Moliere's situation with their own deft, verbal comedy.
· In rep until April 20. Box office: 020-7452 3000.
