David Hare admits frankly that Oscar Wilde is a hard act to follow. Conscious also of the pitfalls inherent in biography, he bases his play on two largely undocumented incidents in the writer's life - allowing his imagination freedom of action. It is a valid dramatic approach and goes far towards providing a tenable explanation for Wilde's misguided decision not to leave England before his arrest following the failure of his suit against the Marquess of Queensbury. The answer is inevitably the pernicious influence of Lord Alfred Douglas, desperate to defy his father and almost indifferent to the likely consequences for Wilde.

After a comic prologue, the serious matter of the play is set in motion by discussion between Robbie Ross and "Bosie" about the best course of action for their friend.

Their wordy argument is briefly silenced by Wilde's entrance, as Liam Neeson sweeps flamboyantly across the stage, towering physically and dramatically above everybody else, his devil-may-care attitude discernibly underlaid by fear, his infatuation paramount. It is clear what the outcome will be. Hare spares Bosie nothing. Spoiled, petulant and completely self-centred, the part is played with repellent conviction by Tom Hollander, and all understanding of his attraction evaporates in Act II, where the lovers are living in penury after Wilde's release from prison. Wilde is not yet a wholly broken man and Neeson reaches a magnificent pitch of despairing knowing

ness and loving resignation as Bosie prepares to repudiate him in favour of reconciliation with his family - plus an assured income. Richard Eyre's production fits David Hare's dramatic concept hand in glove, though there is a curious area of dullness in Peter Capaldi's stiff and sometimes barely audible performance as the faithful Ross.

Bob Crowley's designs and Mark Henderson's imaginative lighting evoke the decadent late 19th-century opulence of the Cadogan, and are only marginally less successful in the later setting for Naples.