At one point in this revival Maureen Lipman gives a masterclass in the kind of prolonged double-take at which even Wile E. Coyote running off a cliff would marvel. Fully 90 seconds must elapse between her first glance at the portrait over the fireplace and her realisation that it shows not her character Veta’s mother but the six-foot-plus white rabbit of the title. There are a couple of subordinate takes when she appears to clock the portrait but continues speaking, leaving us wondering whether Veta has in fact noticed and is simply covering beautifully as she chats to her psychiatrist guest; only with the third glance do we get the classic several-second delay followed by the “Yikes!” moment.
    
This is the stuff of Mary Chase’s play, and of Lindsay Posner’s revival, opening at Birmingham for a brief tour before coming into the West End. It is a farce, but physically a very attenuated one: virtually no mileage is derived from the potential for vigorous tussles whilst committing amiable drunk Elwood P. Dowd to the sanitarium or from orderly Wilson’s propensity to let his biceps do the talking. It does not trade in guffaws, with only one laughter-intensive scene after Elwood has casually escaped Dr Chumley’s nuthatch and installed the portrait of himself and his furry bosom companion (whom only he can see, of course) which so vexes his sister Veta a couple of minutes later. For the most part it is a gentle, even sentimental piece, as when Elwood recalls advice that in this world one must be either smart or pleasant: “Well, for years I was smart. I recommend pleasant. You may quote me.”
    
You probably remember James Stewart as Elwood in the 1950 film version. James Dreyfus here is almost as cosmically affable, but cannot quite eliminate his natural tendency towards camp, with the result that at odd instants he sounds a little like Liberace. A strong supporting cast are not always fully deployed: David Bamber enjoys pompous bumbling (as ever) as Dr Chumley, though Desmond Barrit has little ammo as the family lawyer. Don’t look for it to be anything more than pleasant, but just this once do take Elwood’s word for it.
    
Written for the Financial Times.