When Peter Bowles and Henry McGee as old friends step forward at the start of Molière's great verse comedy, they speak the couplets, linked by artful rhymes, 1ike yards of exposition to be got through - which of course they are. One can almost hear Peter Hall urging his actors to respect the verse form and line endings.
But once into the cut and thrust of the plot, Ranjit Bolt's fresh, splendidly speakable adaptation serves the comedy brilliantly with a ripe choice of rude language from Bowles’ Arnolphe. There are even some neat opportunities for the irrepressible Eric Sykes as Arnolphe’s galumphing valet, stepping ginger1y from the stage revolve to work his sight gags, double takes and vaudevillian asides, watched  dumbstruck by Carmen Silvera as his anxious wife and housekeeper.

Bowles gives a starry, brilliantly theatrical performance as the middle-aged bachelor whose obsessive fear of cuckoldry has led him to take a young girl as his ward. He has brought her up in perfect ignorance as his future wife, only to have all his plans subverted by her very innocence when a young suitor comes to call and finds the key to her heart. Making her West End debut as the sequestered Agnes, Gillian Kearney gives a heart-lifting portrayal of radiant simplicity, blossoming into womanhood at the first touch of love. Her wide submissive eyes turn to resolve as she yearns for the ardent young Horace, played with equal spirit by Daniel Betts. And there is strong support from William Sleigh and David Brierley, fatherly figures in a happy double act tying up the loose ends in the closing tableau while the deflated Bowles stalks off stage with a defiant “Pfouff!”.  Costumes by Laura Hopklns and the stage design by John Gunter add their own touches to a brisk but richly textured evening.