No one paints a picture of a bunch of dysfunctional, deceitful characters like Henrik Ibsen.

When putting on one of his plays, therefore, the challenge lies in preserving the essence of his writing while putting your own stamp on it.

Director Andy Mansell’s production manages the first – just – and the second fairly easily.

The script is delivered competently most of the time, although it’s uncanny how every one of the seven-strong cast suffers at times from an inability to allow the lines time to speak themselves.

The 1960s-style set and staging, along with Sam Black’s original score, though, provides a welcome, unexpectedly edgy spin.

From the moment she comes on, you can feel Eleanor Conlon warming to her part as she burrows deeper and deeper under Hedda’s slimy skin. She endows the anti-heroine with Wallis Simpson-like chilliness and feels, at times, like the glue holding the piece together.

Dave Allerton, in particular, gives a rather hesitant performance as her husband George while, after a fairly shaky start on this occasion, Iona Twiston-Davies eventually pulled her role as the perennially nervous Thea Elvsted out of the bag.

That said, Ibsen is always excellent value and it was a privilege to see him being performed by such a young, enthusiastic team.