FOR A story of such enduring importance and relevance, and one that encapsulates a momentous age in American history, it is easy to forget how much of Of Mice And Men takes place within narrow confines.

John Steinbeck’s tale about displaced migrant workers in the great depression of the 1930s – faithfully adapted for a new tour by director Guy Unsworth – is played out in intimate wood cabins between men who are accustomed to traipsing through the Californian dustbowl alone looking for a job. Tensions are inevitable.

As numerous workers remark to protagonists George (played here by Richard Keightley) and mentally disabled Lennie (Matthew Wynn) when they arrive at yet another new ranch, it’s funny to see two guys going around together.

With a plot set in such potentially claustrophobic spaces, much is dependent on the dynamic not just between Lennie and George but between the employees in general.

In this, Unsworth’s play largely succeeded. The differing personality traits of each worker were teased out through their communication with each other, from the laid-back, decent Slim to world-weary Candy to the antagonistic Curly, the boss’s son who at one point pushes Lennie too far.

David Woodhead’s minimalist set design – and particularly the barn in which Lennie spends much of his time – helps to conjure the stripped-back simplicity of life on a ranch.

The overriding theme of migrants struggling against unprecedented poverty is cleverly rendered in the first scene, where men stagger across the stage in drips and drabs, face turned down to avoid the swirling dust.

At first it seems as though the pacing of the drama is rather on the sluggish side. While Unsworth is just following the novel, it’s always difficult to pull off an opening scene that features nothing more than two men talking and eating.

However, as the production wears on it becomes evident that its strength is its slow-moving naturalism, allowing the action to build gradually towards its devastating emotional climax.