The Menier Chocolate Factory is a hugely promising new fringe venue, a spacious L-shaped auditorium within an arts complex housing a bar, gallery and restaurant.
It will start producing its own shows in the autumn, but first up is this unconvincing stab at Julius Caesar from the young company Cannon's Mouth.
Despite the company's commitment to classical theatre, none of its members is in full command of the verse. Most are recent graduates and they strive too hard for impact.
A neurotic Brutus keeps finding quavery emphasis where none exists, while if Caesar keeps flapping his arms like that he'll take off.
Cry havoc and unleash the dogs of war? Well, yes, they do cry havoc rather a lot, even running up and down the aisles and pointing at the crowd. But the raging might of Mark Anthony's armies is nowhere to be seen.
The most powerful men in Rome too often come across as a bunch of boys squabbling about where they're going for tea tomorrow.
It cracks on at quite a pace - two hours plus interval - and is spoken with enough clarity to be easy to sit through.
Yet Ben Naylor's production is only half-realised - never mind its allusions to the Gulf, its conspirators are callow and its violence is clumsy.
Julius Caesar
