It might be 40 years old, but Stoppard's witty drama is very much the real thing

TOM STOPPARD’S wittily layered drama about truth in relationships and art won Best Play at the Evening Standard Awards in 1982.

- Nick Curtis

Though some of the social attitudes and trappings show their vintage — male chauvin is mandtri mphones, anyone? — the script’s intelligence and passion shine through. Max Webster’s elegant production even manages a deft topspin of modernity.

James McArdle, often a gruff and husky presence, is a revelation here as the Stoppard-esque playwright Henry, prone to snobbery and lofty mansplaining while also dithering over his populist song choices for Desert Island Discs and hacking out screenplays to make alimony. Bel Powley, inset left, is terrific as Annie, the younger actress who arrests his heart and attention. In a wordy drama, both are surprisingly physical: he shimmying in socked feet to Da Doo Ron Ron, she all eloquent elbows and ankles, seductive and exasperated.