There is something initially unprepossessing about Phoebe von Held's stage adaptation of Diderot's great Enlightenment novel. For once, the inventive craziness of the Citizens' company seems to have gone too far. No sooner has Diderot appeared wearing a bizarre costume that is both outrageously rococo and informally modern than the production threatens to be overwhelmed by its own madness.
As Derwent Watson's fabulous French philosopher assumes the character of the teenaged nun-to-be, his voice is synthesized to a high pitch, as if he has been sucking a helium-filled balloon. When we see the young woman press-ganged into a convent as an affront to family values, a multi-coloured neon cross lights above her head.
Never the less, although the bold pyrotechnics and heavily employed sound effects do seem poised to consume the Citizens' small upstairs studio, the piece has too much substance to descend into mere gimmickry. The production is unapologetically stylised, yet its surreal flourishes (such as the exquisite Brendan Hooper's numerous appearances as one of the holy sisters) do not prevent it from giving powerful expression to Diderot's argument about social morality, freedom of religious thought and personal liberty. Suzanne Simonin is in the peculiar position of being forced into a bad habit. Her putative father reveals the source of his longstanding neglect only after she has been dragged into a nunnery, having refused the vows of chastity, poverty and obedience. For her mother's "mistake" of being impregnated by an illicit lover, Suzanne is to be disinherited and interned by the Church.
Whether Candida Benson's wonderfully versatile young nun is under the instruction of an enlightened Mother Superior, a violent and unforgiving sister, or a frustratedly sapphic clergywoman, the convent is always a prison to her. Although she entrusts the loyal lawyer Manouri with her legal appeal against her vows, she has no faith in the judges. Her rage is reserved, not for the court but for her powerfully impassioned argument with the despotic Mother Superior Sainte-Christine. If the presentation's resolute oddness saps it somewhat of atmosphere, Suzanne's plea for freedom restores its emotive and political heart.
From the intrigue and fear generated in Suzanne by the sexual advances of the Mother Superior of Arpajon, to its excellent grasp of the philosophy of Diderot's fiction, this tremendously acted, intelligently designed production is another maverick Citizens' triumph.
· Until April 5. Box office: 0141-429 0022.
