While the neglected plays of lesser dramatists of the period have been celebrated in recent years, the comedies of Sheridan, once the staple of every rep company, have dipped in popularity. It is a long time since Sheridan's first play, based on his own sharp observations of social life in late 18th-century Bath, has come my way and I was looking forward to some first-class froth. Alas, Rachel Kavanaugh's production is like getting filter coffee when you were hoping for cappuccino. It does the job, but it is not delicious. It is handsome in every way, with Peter McKintosh's design combining the stately grandeur of Bath's architecture with a doll's house perspective, to the performances that have a satisfactory level of competence although little sparkle.
It is left to the script's Malapropisms to raise the laughs alone. The whole thing lacks a lightness of touch and both a highly developed sense of fun and a highly developed streak of cruelty. After all, Mrs Malaprop is left as cruelly exposed as Malvolio in Twelfth Night, and after all the game-playing of the quartet of lovers, you are left wondering what kind of marriage these couples will have once the first flush of sexual attraction has worn off. At least you should, but you don't here. I saw a matinee, and energy levels may well be higher at evening performances, but there is never any sense that this cast has taken ownership of the play. Instead, they seem curiously distanced from it, as if something quite alien has landed on the Old Vic stage.
· Until June 12. Box office: 0117- 987 7877.
