David Suchet's Lady Bracknell is not the first instance of Oscar Wilde's battle-axe being played by a man. In 1974, Jonathan Miller wanted to do an all-male production of the comedy with Leo McKern (later Rumpole of the Bailey) suggested as one of those who might play Bracknell. It never happened. Pinter hated the idea, as did Olivier and most of the other National Theatre bigwigs of the time. There have been drag performances since. And although none will have starred an actor internationally known for his Poirot, as well being theatrically known as one of the most potent talents of his generation, on the cross-dressing front Adrian Noble's enjoyable production is no surprise.

What is a surprise, however, is how close Suchet gets to pantomime. For my money, too close. Beneath a wide-brimmed hat topped by a black feather, and above a bust that almost bursts through Bracknell's lacy blouse, he deploys all manner of grimaces and gestures that form this Bracknell's chorus of disapproval. The handbag line - one that carries more baggage for an actor than "To be or not to be" - is delivered through an ineffective incredulous chuckle. Cleverly though, the opprobrium expected comes unexpectedly early when Bracknell repeats Jack Worthing's admission that he was found. "Ffffffoooouuuund?"

It's a shame because underneath the over-egging there is the most terrifying Bracknell I have ever seen - one that is every inch the "monster" putative mother-in-law described by Michael Benz's Jack Worthing. Elsewhere the cast are pretty good to excellent, in particular Philip Cumbus's delightfully amoral Algernon. And Imogen Doel and Emily Barber as the eligible young ladies also deliver two terrifically well judged comedy performances of poise and attitude. With Suchet reigned in just a tad, they and this production, delightful as it is, might just have the makings of a classic revival.