The Grapes of Wrath (Chichester & tour)

In an imaginative piece of programming, the Festival Theatre follows its production of Oklahoma! with The Grapes of Wrath. Thirty years after the action of the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, we get to see what life Curly and Laurey would have forged for themselves; it's not a pretty sight as the optimism of Oklahoma's recognition is hit by the double-whammy of the Great Depression and drought.

John Steinbeck's novel - about a family of Oklahoma sharecroppers whose farm repossession triggers a desperate westward flight in search of the ‘promised land’ - is 70 years old, but it hasn't lost any of its power. And Jonathan Church's hard-hitting production preserves all of the original work's clout as well as offering an uncomfortable reminder of the parallels between the 1930s and the current economic situation.

Church superbly captures the power of Steinbeck’s story, helped enormously from the first scene by Simon Higlett's evocative design, with a row of wheat-sheaves standing like statues as a brief glimpse of what farming could have been like given different circumstances. The descent from these plentiful times to crippling poverty is handled adroitly, with the clever use of a barbershop quartet as a sort of Greek chorus guiding us some of the way. The Joads' road to California is complemented by billboard advertisements promoting the riches of Californian living, mocking the family’s current dire circumstances and aspirations.

It's not perfect: the smooth narrative of the novel is cut into neat mini episodes and some of the accents are completely off, sounding more like they emanate from the Australian dustbowl rather than the American Mid-West. But these are minor quibbles in a standout production.

There’s a particularly strong performance from Sorcha Cusack as Ma Joad, the matriarch whose overwhelming drive is to keep the family together. Also noteworthy are Christopher Timothy as her world-weary husband, whose bent back gait seems to emphasise the burdens that he's bearing, and Oliver Cotton as the moral heart of the piece, Casy, a preacher who has lost his faith. As the hot-headed son Tom, Damian O'Hare provides plenty of fire but his delivery isn't all it should be – although the pivotal “I'll be there” speech is imbued with real passion.

This is a powerful a piece of theatre; a work that grabs the audience's attention from the off and holds it spellbound. It serves as a salutary reminder to us all that a real economic depression is not about holidaying in Bournemouth instead of Barbados or buying cheaper wine; it can have a devastating toll on whole communities.

- by Maxwell Cooter