Passion fails to ignite

You can usually rely upon Stephen Sondheim to be unpredictable. And this bittersweet, love-story musical of his, with its faintly sadomasochistic framework, is a case dramatically in point.

Based upon an obscure 19th century novel, which was filmed in 1981, Passion radically departs from Sondheim's characterising modes of heartfelt cynicism, irony and scathing wit to celebrate the transforming but dangerous power of love.

Carol Metcalfe's pallid, listless production, in which the lovers are all too visibly and audibly miscast, fails to generate anything like the overwhelming emotional impact of the London premiere nearly a decade ago. But Metcalfe's revival still gives you startling glimpses and some awareness of what made Passion, in thematic if not musical terms, a fascinating, new departure for Sondheim.

Vaguely set in 19th century Italy, Passion transposes the Beauty and the Beast fairytale. It shows how sexy, young Captain Giorgio becomes the obsessive object of desire for the Colonel's cousin, Clare Burt's plain, sick and hysteric Fosca.

Although stalked and annoyed by her attentions, Giorgio ultimately achieves something akin to sexual passion for the self-loathing Fosca, who seems humiliated and attracted by this dismissive man. For she gives him the unconditional love that his mistress, Kate Arneil's winsome Clara, does not. Fosca is able to expire happily, knowing "to die loved is to have lived".

Sondheim's music, deftly transmitted by an eloquent little band of five, pulsates with rhapsodic and lyrical yearning. But Mark Carroll's mature, uncharismatic Giorgio, strangely glowering and semidetached, reacts to Fosca, whether in words or song, with irritated languor rather than compassion or ardour.

And Miss Burt's unyouthful, doleful Fosca, her face oddly marked with wounds, appears not so much sexually obsessed as gripped by a school-girlish crush.

Until 3 April. Information: 020 7936 3456.

Passion