The Blue Danube waltz runs like a little trickle through Tales From The Vienna Woods, Odon von Horvath's panoramic 1931 Austrian play about a group of Viennese shopkeepers and girlfriends.
Except that the playing of it has no real joy, even though a small band of musicians in Tyrolean hats and lederhosen are always on hand to remind us where we are.
For this is Austria in 1930 with the world about to change, and not for the better.
The National presented this play a quarter of a century ago in a glorious, luxuriant production by Maximillian Schell (a fairly unknown cast included Stephen Rea, Kate Nelligan, Toyah Willcox and Brenda Blethyn).
Now, on the same vast Olivier stage, director Richard Jones, our most brilliant and dedicated Expressionist, shows what can be done with minimal scenic resources. Just a few overblown postcards, in fact.
A butcher's fiance, Marianne (Nicola Walker) goes off with the local wastrel Alfred (Joe Duttine).
Valerie, an alcoholic widow - beautifully played by the luscious Frances Barber - seduces a 20-year-old student (Paul Chequer) who is soon wearing a swastika on his arm; he gives himself orders when drunk.
There are scenes of domestic intimacy and group outings to bathe in the Danube, or see the show at Maxim's.
But the spectacle is muted and Marianne's nude appearance in a theatrical tableau drives Valerie to a screeching outburst of unhappiness. This is a strange, compelling revival of a truly great play.
Tales From The Vienna Woods
