Tragedy with authority

Sitting in the shadow of a giant "glass testicle" - the unforgettable nickname bestowed by Ken Livingstone on his Norman Foster-designed headquarters - the gathering crowd is entertained by a lone clarinettist playing the second movement of Mozart's Clarinet Concerto.

This busker's presence, combined with the inevitable hedonistic mood of a warm summer's evening by the river, seems like a glorious coincidence - an unexpectedly pleasurable entertainment - and it is tempting to wonder if the official Greek tragedy scheduled to follow will live up to such sheer, if somewhat clichéd, delight.

One minute before Oedipus is meant to start, there is still no sign of the cast, and the anticipation of the audience chattering away in the small open-air amphitheatre is mixed with some puzzlement. The "busker" stops playing his clarinet and descends into the amphitheatre, where he produces a short drum-roll on some bongos (is there no end to the man's talents?) - a musical introduction that is speedily followed by members of the crowd leaping up to declaim the opening lines of Sophocles's great tragedy.

Initially, it seems that director Phil Willmott has stumbled on a superb method for bringing to life the original spirit of Greek dramas - which believed in treating audience members as citizens, there to debate the play's central issues. Where could be more perfect a location than this essentially civic space, and what could be more perfect than the illusion that besuited City businessmen, studenty passers-by, casually dressed tourists and a busker have leapt up spontaneously to tell Oedipus's story right from its glorious beginnings to its bloody, mutilated end?

Unfortunately, the production itself fails to deliver much beyond initial surprise value. Stephen Beckett's Oedipus, who emerges as an energised executive with a plummy accent to match his plummy shirt, spends too much time shouting assertively rather than acting.

This affliction spreads fatally throughout the cast, whose bludgeoning confidence destroys the illusion that they are caught in events beyond their control - somewhat ruining Sophocles's carefully constructed dramatic tension.

As a result, Willmott's fabulous idea seems stillborn. His discovery of this venue, however, is ripe with promise for future endeavours.

Until 3 August. Admission free, Thursday to Sunday 9pm.

Oedipus