The Rivals

Salisbury Playhouse

Sometimes going to the theatre is like soaking and luxuriating in a steaming foamy bath - a sensual pleasure which is lavish, delightful and not 'good for you' in any way whatsoever. The theatrical equivalent of chocolate gateau, the consumption of which leaves one not a better person, but certainly a richer one. This is such a production.

Tim Luscombe's staging is a sumptuous, richly-costumed affair within a set which oozes classical minimalism. The garish costumes lend a cartoon-like quality to the production. If Disney in its heyday had decided to animate The Rivals, this is not a million miles from what it would have felt like. Even the curtain call, in which the cast groove and pose to some heavy Regency rhythms in a weird blend of Bob Fosse and Jane Austen, feels like something which would be perfectly at home in the unique reality of the Magic Kingdom.

In this heightened, looking-glass version of Regency Bath even the absurdities of country bumpkin Bob Acres (James Loye) and hibernian hothead Sir Lucius O'Trigger (Roger Barclay) seem perfectly at home. Eileen Battye's slightly creepy and unusually melancholic Mrs Malaprop is more Cruella deVil than Lady Bracknell as she scurries across the stage like a prolix spider. Meanwhile Malcolm Rennie seizes the part of rumbustious, choleric Sir Anthony Absolute and joyously rolls around in it like a puppy revelling in a fresh cowpat, fully exploiting - and justifying - the licence which the role grants an actor.

Rennie's is but one of an array of exquisitely delivered performances, highlights of which include Jonathan Aris's resolutely wimpish Faulkland and Sophie Duval's scheming lady's maid. These may be this reviewer's personal favourites, but in this production there are no lowlights, with a truly gratifying display of high quality ensemble acting. The performances never slip into pure grotesque: true to the script, one still has a sense of the humanity underlying the caricatures.

This is a production which neither plays things too safe nor seeks to strike out towards the extremes of the avant-garde. The sort of production one would hope for from a theatre like the Salisbury Playhouse. And, as the Playhouse celebrates its 25^th birthday, it is proof of why Britain needs provincial theatres which produce their own plays, offering a middle way between the high art of London's creative powerhouses and the plain vanilla mediocrity of most commercial productions. As so many provincial theatres are becoming merely waystops for low calorie rehashes of West End blockbusters, it is good to know that there are still some beacons of hope like the Playhouse out there for us non-metropolitans.

Toby O'Connor Morse

To 29 September. Box office: (01722) 320333