This punk-in-a-paintshop Miser is a brave but underdeveloped attempt by director Helena Kaut-Howson and designer Ashley Martin-Davis to expose the social critique underpinning Moliere's brilliant comedy. They transpose the action from Louis XIV's Paris to a bare space scattered with decorators' detritus but never make it clear what this has to do with the story of the avaricious Harpagon, whose obsessive greed threatens the happiness of his children, the wellbeing of his servants and the lives of his neighbours.
Bizarre characters shoot around the stage like overwound clockwork toys. The men's paint-spattered breeches are vaguely period; the women's dresses a Vivienne Westwood-style take on Marie Antoinette. Wigs introduce an element of danger: Cléante, dismayed to discover his father intends to marry the girl he loves, almost impales his lover on spikes sticking pointily from his head; that Danny Lee Wynter is so touchingly tender underneath this is miraculous. Harpagon is reduced, at times, to one eccentric among many; but Derek Griffiths's thoroughly mean miser - supported by some sterling performances - saves the production and repays our investment with interest and laughter.
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