I mentioned to my Aged Parent this afternoon that I was off to see Oedipus. 'I'm not going, I know what happens in the end', he said. While not as amusing as his jokes about who's playing Godot, this turned out to be prophetic in a night haunted by prophecy.

Berkoff's retelling of the Oedipus myth begins with a tableau reminiscent of the Last Supper. Workers dressed in a palette of sepia and blue flank Oedipus the king, navy suited and loafer-shod, commanding the centre of a long table. As Oedipus speaks, the tableau is animated with the chorus of workers reacting to his words in a series of staccato grotesques and stilted, stylised dialogue in iambic pentameter, sometimes taking turns to speak and sometimes speaking together. This is underscored by incidental music. This could have been powerful but as much of the movement is incredibly literal it adds little to the tale, and, given the nature of the action being described, the ensemble cast is stretched in trying to find a variety of ways to display their anger and worry about the state of their city, their anger and worry about the state of their king, their anger and worry about their future, their anger and - oh, you get the picture. And we got the picture over and over and over, as staccato reaction to every half line, underscored by portentous chord, followed staccato reaction, until I was reminded of a flick book version of Wreck of The Hesperus.

More importantly, for a good half of this play, any action at all takes place off stage, whether it is in another place, another time (fifteen years ago when King Laius was murdered), or in a room next door while frustratingly we have been watching the Chorus rather than allowed to see what's really going on. So there is an awful lot of what feels like exposition, although it really isn't, this is the action of the play; and to bring some action into it there is a lot of what used to be called 'dumbshow', a member of the Chorus pantomiming the actions as they are spoken by another member or by Oedipus or one of the seers/messengers.

I'll be honest; the first half felt like an overly long prologue and I did furtively check my watch. It was then a relief when Louise Jameson, playing Jocasta, entered. Here was the chance for some actual drama between some real protagonists. And so it transpired. While there is still a lot or retelling of tales already told, specifically of course the prophecy that the tragedy centres upon, this middle section works incredibly well. This is partly because it allows the actors to have their first real emotions in relation to each other, and it allows Simon Merrells (playing Oedipus) out of the straightjacket of constant, one-note anger. He is able to express a range of emotions, often with great subtlety, and for the first time I found myself caring what happens. In addition, Berkoff builds this section skilfully, layering fact on top of fact, with a good use of irony and comedy that enhances the feeling of a downward spiral until the evidence is incontrovertible, even to denying Jocasta. These two things are key; in a play where we all know the ending, how it is told and caring about what happens are a necessity.

In the end this version works well and is moving and strong. Berkoff's language is muscular although it is largely untroubled by beauty, and I can't help thinking that the real winner here is Sophocles. The themes of free will versus predestination, and what it is safe to believe in, still hold an audience in thrall.

Overall: Da-dum, da-dum, da-dum....

Book here for Oedipus at the Liverpool Playhouse

Watch other audience reaction  to this Berkoff piece.