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From the riotously colourful Gondoliers, the CFT now switches to the overwhelming grey of The Merchant of Venice, an almost monochrome production no less impressive than its multi-coloured counterpart. Where The Gondoliers was bright and breezy, The Merchant is murky, filled with hate and driven by prejudice. Where The Gondoliers trip through the water with love in their hearts, Shylock splashes in it, writhing in his agony.
And so a remarkable star for the summer season ahead starts to emerge. The set, the same basic building block for all the productions, simple and yet astonishingly versatile. You can skim the surface of the water one night; you can plunge into its depths (well metaphorically, at least) the next.
And that's clearly going to be the great virtue of this summer season - a season born of a coherent vision and of a determination to present not a succession of plays, but a thought-out, rounded and challenging whole. Two plays in, and it's clear that this is a set, with its varied paths across the water, on which anything can happen. And therein lies the magic of theatre.
Okay, I am going to quibble about the modern dress. However true the sentiments you voice, however eternal the truths, the details, (lead caskets, pounds of flesh et al) appear deeply daft once you voice them in a suit and tie. But at the same time , it's those grey suits, set against the battleship grey of the set, which help build the menace. Wearing a suit doesn't necessarily make you a civilised - as Antonio and his cronies prove when they vent their hatred and eventually despatch the duped and despised Shylock.
Shylock makes a splash, but he can't sink the prejudices which he faced and which rubbed off to make him the monster who demands his pound of flesh. Desmond Barrit is admirable in the role. Spat at and jeered, he shows a man provoked beyond all imagination, but a man all the same. His delivery of the "Hath not a Jew eyes" speech is beautifully done and deeply moving.
And when Shylock's cruelty is trumped by the Christians' cruelty at the close of the Court scene, you see the shades of grey. No one is right, yet no one is wholly wrong. Gale Edwards' spot-on direction allows the comedy its full flavour, but she also knows when to turn the screw.
Press nights n previous years have occasionally offered slightly undercooked shows. It's clear this won't happen under the theatre's new management. Like The Gondoliers, this is an instantly assured production; like The Gondoliers, it's peopled by actors who have the measure of the CFT stage from the outset.
Niamh Cusack is a fresh, appealing and playful Portia. Cusack fascinatingly brings out her journey to become Shylock's nemesis, as vicious as the rest, before she reverts to type in the coda.
Philip Quast fills the role of Antonio most impressively too. And among the young men about town Geoffrey Streatfield is comfortably the most striking, pumped up with the kind of contempt and mockery you could find in the stands of any Saturday in the football season.
Your heart sinks as the production opens and the company comes on to float paper boats on the water, but you'll soon be enthralled. Overall this is another fine night- not just for this theatre, but for theatre in general.
