After three shows in a row about actors, it would be refreshing to see a play about accountants, aid workers or acupuncturists. But even if this sumptuous revival of a 1927 Broadway comedy by George S Kaufman and Edna Ferber doesn't have the bouncy bravura of Kiss Me Kate, it is at least free of the curdled romanticism of Coward's Star Quality.
The problem with the play is obvious: for all the fervour of the authors' denials, the theatrical Cavendish dynasty that the play affectionately satirises was clearly based on the Barrymores. Matriarchal trouper Fanny Cavendish and her feckless daughter Julie bear more than a passing resemblance to Mrs John Drew and Ethel Barrymore. And Julie's roistering scapegrace of a brother, Tony, could only be John Barrymore. But who, other than showbiz historians, now cares about this faded clan?
If anything rescues the play from incestuousness, it is its hymn to professional pride, its unshakeable belief that the theatre imposes disciplines and demands that are perfectly honourable. The tradition it celebrates may have all but died in the age of instant celebrity, but there is something touching about the ailing Fanny's passionate invocation of the rituals of curtain-time. And although both daughter Julie and granddaughter Gwen are seduced by the attractions of civilian life, they are brought back to reality by the family's business-manager. "Fun is work, it's work that's fun," he cries, knowing they can never resist the bear-pit exhilaration of live performance.
The Royal Family is a celebration of craft. And there is an abundance of craft on display in Peter Hall's star-laden production. Judi Dench makes the formidable Fanny an unsentimental disciplinarian who puts professionalism before personal happiness ("Marriage isn't a career, it's an incident.") Harriet Walter as daughter Julie also hints, for all the temptation of marriage to an emerald millionaire, that she has inherited her mother's moral fibre. And, even if Toby Stephens as brother Tony does not attempt the 8ft leap from a balcony that Olivier made in a 1934 revival, he still brings out the adolescent self-obsession that is the obverse of the family's masonic pride.
But it is Philip Voss who steals the show, lending the family's business-manager a wonderful mix of parental protectiveness and showbiz infatuation. When he's on stage you forget about the play's faintly fossilised quality and rejoice at the spectacle of an actor who relishes every moment and embodies the kind of exuberant professional skill that Kaufman and Ferber are celebrating.
· Booking until February 2002. Box office: 020-7930 8800. A version of this review appeared in later editions of yesterday's paper.
