The Duchess of Malfi at Town Hall Concert Chamber

ATC's production of John Webster's bloody revenge tragedy demonstrates how voices from a distant era can weirdly illuminate our present condition.

Some British commentators have suggested that the recent upsurge of interest in Jacobean drama points to a strange resonance between our current political malaise and the disillusionment that pervaded public life at the beginning of the 17th century.

The play thrusts us into a deeply corrupt society where appeals to high-sounding idealism serve only to mask venality and the lust for power. Webster delivers a savage indictment of civic authority that is mired in arrogance, self-indulgence and hypocrisy.

Colin McColl's cool direction allows the audience to distance themselves from the bloody mayhem of a story that involves incest, murder, psychological torture and madness.

At moments of heightened intensity, techniques of Brechtian alienation are employed to minimise our empathy with the torments the characters are suffering. Our emotional response to the cruel murder of the Duchess is thoroughly disrupted when her corpse arises in full view of the audience and she positions herself as a ghostly spectre watching the action of the remaining scenes.

The effect is like a cold shower, bracing us for an appreciation of the intellectual function of the stage action. This strategy, used consistently throughout the play, is a bold and risky gesture from a highly skilled director. It effectively focuses attention on the meaning of the drama, but it also exposes a didactic impulse that is intolerant of ambiguity.

An alternative is tantalisingly evoked by the intrusion of a wildly deranged rabble of lunatics sent to torment the Duchess in her torture chamber. This brilliantly choreographed interlude draws on the Theatre of Cruelty and revels in the emotional turmoil of Webster's horrific vision.

One senses that McColl considered such an approach but opted for a more rigorous style that is ably supported by Tony Rabbit's restrained and intelligent design. His minimal set emphasises the architectural features of the Concert Chamber and has the auditorium illuminated for much of the performance.

A uniformly strong cast brings clarity to the conflicts between the starkly drawn characters. They succeed admirably in highlighting Webster's wonderful use of language that is richly poetic and remarkably modern in much of its imagery.

The moral dilemmas of the story are strikingly delineated by Michael Hurst's portrayal of Bosola, a malcontent who is torn between the impulse to do good and the corrupting influence of his position in society. Hurst is a commanding stage presence who displays a superb understanding of the language of the play.

The play is well-suited for our troubled times as Webster's penetrating gaze stares unflinchingly at the human face of evil:

"Whether we fall by ambition, blood or lust,

Like diamonds, we are cut with our own dust."