The truly great theatre companies stand out by their ability to be distinctively themselves and yet make a succession of shows that are distinctively different. After an astonishing few years of creative frenzy, Kneehigh joins those ranks with its latest piece, which takes Euripides' wild tragedy of reason and madness and reinvents it as a contemporary postmodern folk tale.
It sings so clearly to us not just because it addresses the hysteria of mob violence and cycles of revenge that are so much part of our times, but because it whispers directly to the heart and the dark desire to kick off our comfy slippers and join the wild, whirling dance of abandon and sod the consequences.
Bill Mitchell's spare design, in which virginal dresses are suspended over an almost bare stage, is matched in the beautiful simplicity of the production. The controlling aesthetic that entwines high and low culture, music and movement, the poetic and the banal, apparent naivety with cunning sophistication, and always ensures that the actors are engaging directly and generously with the audience is even more evident here than it was in Kneehigh's previous shows such as The Red Shoes and The Wooden Frock.
There is also a joyous naughtiness that is quite impossible to resist, particularly in the playful gender-bending tutu-clad Bacchae, who would surely have Professor Higgins pondering: "Why can't a man be more like a woman?"
Director Emma Rice always ensures, however, that this is more than just a case of women behaving badly. She takes her time; she lulls us into a false sense of security with armies made out of newspaper and audience singalongs. And the story of the revenge that Dionysius takes on his kingly cousin (who refuses to acknowledge his godliness) is played with such mischievousness that when it reaches its malignant climax you are quite taken by surprise.
After the furious storm comes the terrifying silence, broken only by a bloodied woman wrapping her son's severed head in crumpled newspaper and the sound of hearts and hope crumbling to dust.
· Until October 16. Box office: 0113-213 7700. Then touring.
