A marquee-like structure constructed out of gauzy curtains. Stark lighting, the kind that suggests mist or fog. Two figures alternate between sitting, standing and slouching – our doomed lovers for the night.

Bell Shakespeare’s Antony and Cleopatra, with Catherine McClements and Johnny Carr. Photo © Heidrun Lohr

Filmic captions, accompanied by pulsing, juddering chords by Max Lyandvert, clue the audience in to the year and setting, as well as what’s elapsed in between the scenes. These devices, along with two of the performances, are the only sources of energy that give this already static play any life.

Catherine McClements’ Cleopatra keeps this weighty barge afloat. When she walks onstage you feel immediately the kind of frisson that this play, at its best, generates through its tart, fraught exchanges. Mercurial and tough, she is cleverly costumed by Anna Cordingley: silver rings glitter on her fingers, while her flared pants and long sleeves give her a distinct rock and roll vibe. While she may lack some of the queenliness of other Cleopatras, this is of a piece with Peter Evans’ down to earth staging, where the rulers are more pencil pushing bureaucrat than mighty aristocrat.