After the interval, once Laura’s gentleman caller finally comes to visit, the production amps up to another level though. Their fateful meeting is a beautifully written and perfectly constructed scene and it is done achingly well here. Brian J Smith (seen recently in Netflix drama
Sense8) is absolute charm personified, seductive in the kindest way as he teases the reticent Laura out of her shell. And O’Flynn responds flawlessly, visibly growing in stature as a scarcely imagined dream looks set to be coming true and then almost frozen by the shellshock of it being whipped away, her arms remain outstretched as if the ghost of an embrace is better than the harsh reality to which she knows she must return. Between this and her show-stealing Dr Peep in
No Offence, is there any more exciting British actor at the moment?
And Michael Esper’s guilt-ridden Tom, loosely based on Williams’ himself, is a compelling figure looking back on the events of his life. Bob Crowley’s striking set design emphasises this psychological aspect, locating the Wingfields’ cramped apartment in an almost dream-like black void with a spiralling fire escape, and Natasha Katz’s superb lighting softens and sharpens the focus according to the level of his guilt. In short, it is fantastic. The Glass Menagerie has always been a great play and here, it receives the kind of production that will convince a whole new generation exactly why that is.