Theatre - A selfish actor doesn't deserve his servant in a modern classic, writes Michael Portillo The Dresser Duke of York's, London WC2

The return of The Dresser to London's West End confirms what we thought when it premiered 25 years ago: that Ronald Harwood's piece would prove a modern classic. His depiction of the edgy relationship between the leading actor in a wartime Shakespearean touring company and his theatre valet remains witty and poignant. The lines seem fresh even after a quarter of a century during which the play has been performed around the world and in many languages. Norman, the dresser, is a wonder- ful achievement of stage characterisation.

The actor-manager is known only as "Sir", a huge pretension that helps assuage his disappointment that contemporaries such as Sir Arthur Palgrave have been knighted while he has been overlooked. ("I saw his Lear once and was pleasantly disappointed.")

The war against the Nazis has made life tough for the troupe. Sir has to make do with "old men, cripples and nancy-boys". One of these last has been arrested, requiring him to recast the show. Despite his failing health, Sir has roaming hands that constantly search for a Cordelia light enough for him to carry on stage. Tonight they explore a young flirtatious actress called Irene (played by Anna Lauren). With German bombs descending on Bridlington, neither Sir nor any member of the company shows the least fear. The curtain must rise as usual.

But Sir has gone peculiar. He has had a fit in the town, and spent the afternoon in hospital. Only Norman believes that he is capable of playing Lear that night. We are seized with suspense as the dresser struggles to persuade the old man to don his costume, shaggy locks and beard. The actor has become as unhinged as Lear himself. With seconds to go before his 228th performance of the role, he cannot recall even his opening line.

Nicholas Lyndhurst plays Norman. Thinner and more pinched than Tom Courtenay, who memorably took the role in 1980, Lyndhurst walks with buttocks pressed tight as though gripping a cork. His head is always peevishly angled and in profile. It moves swiftly from one position to another as though to signal either contempt or offence taken. For long periods the arms are folded high on the body. Occasionally he unfolds just one, leaving the other draped across his chest. The free hand pulls needlessly at the bottom of his sleeveless jumper. When he covers Sir's sleeping body with a blanket, he fussily straightens the strings of material that hang from its ends.

When Norman is surprised, one hand spreads itself across his mouth, open- fingered. When seated, he squeezes his legs together at the knees. When the legs are crossed, the suspended foot curls back towards the body. He worries at imaginary scuffs on the thighs of his trousers. Lyndhurst's campness is observed in extraordinary detail and is impeccably portrayed - taken to the limits, perhaps, but never beyond.

Norman is a devoted servant, but Sir is not really the object of that devotion. He is too self-obsessed and careless of other people's feelings to attract affection. The dresser is committed to the theatre, the milieu in which his life has meaning and in which he holds sway. His duty is to public performance. The show must go on. Norman alone can lure Sir in his demented state towards the stage with the promise of a full house.

There is a poignant moment when Norman discovers that Sir has dedicated his autobiography to all the trades of the theatre except dressers. The egotistical actor overlooks the man who has kept his personal show on the road. Norman is crushed. When his master dies, there is no sign that he will miss "the old sod". But the death robs the dresser of what gives him purpose and status. Sir's death is his final act of selfishness.

Julian Glover brings to the part of the aged actor his vast experience of playing Lear. We are witness only to what happens in the wings of the play within the play, the performance on-stage reaching us only as noises off-stage. Glover's gorgeous vocal richness as the tormented king left me longing to be able to see round the corner. But even if Glover cannot help making Sir a good actor, he succeeds in keeping our sympathy at bay.

In the moments before Sir's first entrance on stage, Glover presents him as a shaking wreck. It is a fine moment of pathos, and of comedy, too, as the actors on-stage ad lib Shakespearean cliches, attempting to cover up Lear's missed cue. The sure touch of the director, Peter Hall, was also evident in another wonderfully funny moment, as the whole ensemble toils in the wings with timpani, metal sheet, recorder and wind machine trying to produce enough noise to satisfy Sir's demands for a convincing storm scene.

There were empty seats when I saw The Dresser. So it should be easy to get tickets to catch Lyndhurst's Norman, which will be one of the memorable performances of 2005.

Booking on 0870 060 6623 until 14 May

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