A MONTH IN THE COUNTRY Donmar, WC2

ABSURDITIES OF PASSION WIND UP A TORRID SUMMER This is by Turgenev, revolutionary in his time (banned for a while), now adapted with mischief and appreciation by the late Brian Friel and directed – with even more mischief but a redeeming humanity – by Lyndsey Turner. Like the later Chekhov masterpieces it’s there to remind us that a country estate household is both potential idyll and terrible trap: Moscow, as ever, mentioned in the background as both potential escape and source of emotionally troubling visitors. Ah, we’ve all been there. So Leslie Travers designs a great suspended cage of thick foliage, sometimes rising to reveal a garden or interior, sometimes falling balefully around them all. Before the start a woman’s face peers through the leaves at us, hopeful or cautious. Its Sophie Okonedo, my favourite Cleopatra: a strong -boned, defiantly handsome face, beauty past the prime but aristocracy unchallengeable, her moods and games dangerously expressive. This is Natalya, wife…