The lives of superfluous men and women in the provinces are also at the heart of Uncle Vanya, which seems ubiquitous at the moment, from the National's recent version to Roger Allam's garlanded Chichester production. It is now a surprise hit at the Print Room en plein Notting Hill. It's a studio theatre with a decent-size floor (stage would be overstating things) — and a frustratingly small amount of seating.  

That gives Lucy Bailey's production a village-hall feel.But there is very  good stuff indeed in little bundles here. Mike Poulton has produced a polished reworking, with only a few jarring cadences. The feuds and listless passions feel urgently fresh in the hands of a terrific cast. The ghastly valetudinarian professor (David Yelland) is pitched somewhere between the loftiness of Lord Owen and a country house historian who treats every conversation as if it were held from a lectern. Seedy, self-hating Astrov (William Houston) is a big, sexy beast of a man and Uncle Vanya (Iain Glen) a trembling wreck of sweating inadequacy.

 I've had many favourite Uncle Vanyas in my time, including the quirky Louis Malle film version with a young Julianne Moore and Wallace Shawn. But if one test of a production is how desperately empathetic Sonya's (Charlotte Emmerson) "We shall rest" speech makes you feel, this one scores highly. It might even move the steely denizens of Notting Hill to tears, which is saying something.