“I thought ‘betrayal’ was your favourite word.” – “No, no: ‘cruelty’.” There, in a nutshell, are the two central characters, Valmont and Merteuil, in Christopher Hampton’s adaptation of Choderlos de Laclos’ 1782 novel. Hampton’s play was one of the RSC’s greatest non-Shakespearean successes when it premiered in the mid-1980s, garnering a clutch of awards and making stars of Alan Rickman and Lindsay Duncan, but it has not been seen in London since. Josie Rourke’s first-rate revival suggests that this is not in any way a matter of quality.

Hampton is one of the finest adapters/translators in the language, and here he has turned Laclos’ epistolary novel into a dynamic drama. The callous, exploitative Valmont and Merteuil play their emotional and sexual chess games both directly and by proxy; Valmont finds himself attempting to seduce both the virtuous Madame de Tourvel, as part of a direct wager with Merteuil, and also – this time as her [i.e. Merteuil’s] agent – the naïve Cécile Volanges, straight out of the convent. These sexual cynics play upon their targets and all innocent parties as expertly as upon the harpsichord on Tom Scutt’s semi-derelict noble-house set. (It is a full harpsichord: alas, I have no justification for any pun about Valmont plucking away at the virginal.)

Dominic West gives Valmont a contemporary feel whilst also being adept, for example, at the kind of semi-formal posing which shows off his legs in breeches and half-hose. On opening night he half-tripped on his lines several times, but gave the impression that this was because the words were coming fresh to Valmont in the moment. Opposite him, you would be hard put ever to see a more knowing performance than Janet McTeer’s as Merteuil. Again, this is not in the least demonstrative: she simply conveys a spider-like awareness of all that is going on throughout her web. Her impeccable straight face during an exchange of sexually-based dramatic ironies is especially masterly. Elaine Cassidy portrays both Mme de Tourvel’s virtue and its erosion, and Morfydd Clark is a kind of comic counterpart as Cécile, with further strong support from Adjoa Andoh and Una Stubbs. Little or no artificial judgement is made upon the characters; we are simply left to own our fascination with all this amorality.

Written for the Financial Times.