The Winter’s Tale is a play of two very different halves. The first half, dour and serious, filled with darkness, jealousy and vengeance, and then the second half, lighter and happier, complete with peasants, dancing and dénouement. Branagh’s approach did not deviate from this, but the first half began with a pleasant sense of gemütlichkeit, cosiness and contentment, which made the ensuing poison of jealousy and despair that much more effective. Christopher Oram’s set was beautifully cosy and reminiscent of the Nutcracker, with velvet fabrics, Victorian costumes, a Christmas tree and some atmospheric snow. It was the least Sicilian Sicilia I have ever seen, but it worked very well in November in London.

I have long been a fan of Kenneth Branagh’s, since his elegant films of Henry V and Much Ado About Nothing brought a clear, somewhat abridged version of Shakespeare to the wilds of my local multiplex, many years ago. His tabloid exploits and youthful arrogance, vilified in the press on this side of the pond, largely passed me by. I always enjoy seeing him on stage, and his performance as Leontes was no exception. Initial reports indicated that he was overacting somewhat, but I did not notice this. I thought his interpretation was as clearly voiced and interpretively generous as usual. His interactions with Miranda Raison’s beautiful (if somewhat chilly) Hermione were well done, and the creeping sense of jealousy that invaded his senses was done gradually and did not feel inevitable. As the atmosphere turned colder and Leontes turned against Hermione, the anguish was palpable. Pierre Atri did extremely well as Mamilius, in a difficult and lengthy role for a young person to memorise.

Every time I see Judi Dench on stage, I am reminded of just how wonderful she is. I have seen her in bad plays (Madame de Sade comes, wincingly, to mind) but I have never seen her give even a mediocre performance. Her Paulina was wise and every word she spoke perfectly timed. She speaks iambic pentameter as though it were prose. Long may she grace our stages. Michael Pennington was a beautifully voiced Antigonus and John Shrapnel an affecting Camillo.

It was a pleasure to see Hadley Fraser (Polixenes), Adam Garcia (Amadis) and John Dagleish (Autolycus) in Shakespeare (as opposed to their usual musical theatre). Fraser played it straight in the first half and his explosion in the second in the confrontation with Florizel was genuinely frightening. I knew Dagleish was funny, but his performance as Autolycus revealed hidden skills, such as his ability to switch accents on a dime and his ability as an excellent physical comedian.

The second half brought, as always, lightness and relief. Jimmy Yuill’s Shepherd was funny and again beautifully timed. There was wonderful chemistry between Tom Bateman’s earthy, lusty Florizel and Jessie Buckley’s exquisitely voiced Perdita. Rob Ashford choreographed some delightful dancing, which I could have watched for much longer than it went on. The climax of the piece was acted with great delicacy of feeling by Branagh and narrated with perfect timing by Dench. I had rather hoped for a traditional dance to finish off with, as I had enjoyed the Bohemian dancing so very much. It was a wistful, poignant ending to a very enjoyable production of the play. A good start to the Branagh Company’s season.