The Old Vic has returned to form with a disturbing Victorian thriller Gaslight Old Vic, London SE1

After a somewhat baffling and sometimes disastrous run of plays, the Old Vic has cut its audiences a bit of slack with its latest show, a classy production of Patrick Hamilton's creepy thriller Gaslight. The director, Peter Gill, follows his brilliant take on The Voysey Inheritance at the National Theatre with a similarly commanding production, again set in the apparently respectable heart of bourgeois late-Victorian society.

The play takes place in the living room of a London terrace; Hayden Griffin's set is cluttered with lamps, desks, pictures and heavy furniture. Outside, thick yellow smog has descended, although one can just see a lambent moon above the skyline of the city. All that breaks the oppressive indoor atmosphere is the jaunty bell from the muffin man outside on the pavement. Inside, the residents of the house are trying to conduct a civil conversation.

Jack Manningham (Andrew Woodall) is clearly exasperated with his young wife, Bella (Rosamund Pike). He deals with her as if speaking to a very young child, or an animal, alternatively telling her off and then promising her treats if she behaves. Pike, pale and beautiful in a grey-satin day dress, paces the room anxiously, knotting her fingers with anxiety. She tries to be a good wife, to pour the tea as the mistress of the house, but the serving girl sniggers at her, and her husband is never satisfied. We learn that to her dismay, mysterious things keep happening; trinkets disappear and pictures inexplicably move from the wall. She takes the blame for all this, and thinks she is going mad. Her husband thinks so too, and punishes her by locking her in her bedroom, where she hears footsteps and notices the gas lamps dimming, due to some strange external force.

As straightforward thriller, Gaslight does its job admirably. The plot thickens and develops plausibly enough, while Woodall and Pike wisely refrain from the temptation to aim for melodrama. Yet as an analysis of marital abuse, Gill's production also scores. Woodall's solid frame and immaculate diction make him a wholly convincing villain and utterly menacing as Jack. Pompous and bossy, a threat or punishment constantly at his fingertips, he is not only adept at humiliating his wife, but is also sexually domineering and sadistic, as he whispers about "hussies" and openly flirts with the cockney serving girl (Sally Tatum). Pike, in the meantime, manages to inject real distress into a woman who doubts her own sanity to such an extent that when Inspector Rough (Kenneth Cranham) turns up, she is not even sure if he exists.

Cranham is ideally cast as the avenging inspector. He is nimble and assured, wittily extemporising when he accidentally spills some water on the table ("I could almost suck it from the tablecloth"). Without badge or uniform, he asks Mrs Manningham to trust him by merely looking into his eyes. He might have asked the same question of the audience. Sitting in the theatre watching one person gradually dehumanise another for an hour or so is quite hard work. Cranham's reassuring presence, not to mention his optimistic relish of the task at hand ("This job doesn't seem so very formidable!" he cries, when picking a lock), gives the mood a much-needed boost.

There is also a satisfying historical weight to the goings-on. Patrick Hamilton's play, written in 1938, may belong to a lightweight genre, but a thriller must be convincing in order to function. Gill has forensically researched the period in which the play is set; no detail is omitted, from the sugar tongs in the tea service to the obsequious manner in which a serving girl must enter a drawing room. And even though the action takes place over the course of a single night, there is a strong sense of history behind each of the characters - and, crucially, behind the outward brick respectability of the house itself.

For further info and booking details visit http://www.oldvictheatre.com

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