“Priorities. Things that count.” Thus Kristin, a prominent art historian growing old disgracefully, describes what she and her extended family have been discussing before the interval. And, just as Kristin insists on always setting the agenda and defining the terms of debate, thus playwright Alexi Kaye Campbell tells us, the audience, what his play is about in so many words.

My opinion of Apologia has diminished since I saw its 2009 première. It now seems less subtle and complex (as evidenced by that direct instruction regarding what to think), and the addition to Campbell’s oeuvre of three more plays in the interim (this was his second to be staged) provides a firmer context for it. He is a thoughtful and committed writer, but for some reason he has never yet struck me as successfully lining up all his ducks in a row. In Apologia he has written a corker of a central role – a woman committed to her work and her political ideals to the point of almost entirely ignoring her family – and a group of distinctly secondary antagonists – her two grown-up sons, their girlfriends and a family friend. They exist solely to modulate the portrait of her, and thus ironically the structure of the play bears out the accusations levelled at the character.

As you may have gathered, it’s a talky piece; indeed, virtually the entire second act consists of a series of duologues, and Campbell seems so fascinated by the dramatic journey (a word Kristin despises) that he grows rather perfunctory when finally tightening the focus to the matter of parenting and familial bonds. Director Jamie Lloyd likes to go for drama, and so doesn’t always rein in his cast’s performances. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Desmond Barrit enjoy himself so much in a role as he does as bitch-queen Hugh; Stockard Channing brings a whole array of discreet chops to playing Kristin (she’s a master of subtly “cheating front”, always more or less facing the audience), but her performance may almost be too finely calibrated. The laurels go to Joseph Millson, doubling as both sons; he has numerous opportunities to explode onstage but admirably restricts himself to one outburst per brother. Both play and production are less challenging, less meaty than they appear.

Written for the Financial Times.