"Tis not so wise an age, but your own follies may supply the stage". Whatever the age, of course, people stay the same. We lie and cheat, vow to improve and then relapse, prey to our vanity or the seductions of others – and it makes for some wonderful theatre. Alex Lass’ production of John Vanbrugh’s The Relapse combines biting satire, uproarious fun and sparkling wit to probe beneath fine manners and even finer clothes, revealing the seamy underbelly of the 17th century.

The choice of the inaugural play for the brand new Howard Theatre couldn’t have been better, its exquisite classical architecture complementing The Relapse’s opulent period style. The relapse of the title belongs to Loveless (Josh Walker), a reformed rake who soon collapses into the arms of the beautiful Berinthia (Kate Mason). She in turn urges Loveless’ wife, Amanda (Sophie Rixon), to avenge herself on her husband by succumbing to suitor Worthy (Phill Howe). Meanwhile, penniless Young Fashion (Edwin Ashcroft) has another scheme in mind: stealing the fiancée of his rich beau brother, Lord Foppington (Andrew Brock).

The Relapse’s main target is the 17th century beau, whose thousand graces, cloying manners and ridiculous clothes were outrageously embodied by Brock. Brock’s affected accent never faltered; his ridiculous gestures and repeated exclamations of ‘stab my vitals’ always raised a laugh. Ashcroft’s Young Fashion, with his understated costume and nonchalant persona, was the ideal foil for his outrageous brother. Nervous at first, he soon grew into his role, his honesty believable despite some pretty doubtful conduct. The scenes at Sir Tunbelly Clumsy’s (George Potts) country house showed Ashcroft at his best, as he appropriated his brother’s name and fiancée, coolly ordering Foppington to be bound by Clumsy’s riotous posse of country bumpkins. The plan was masterminded by sinister old lecher Coupler, played in grotesque contortion by James Swanton; the concept of the 'sub-plot' was crushed by bawdy action and flawless acting.

In the spotlight, then, the libertine Loveless paled slightly in comparison. Less outrageously funny, and even a tad thought-provoking, the opening scene between Loveless and his wife was touching in the sense of inevitable fall. Rixon played the long-suffering wife to perfection; her acting, like her character's virtue, remained graceful throughout. Contrasting with such innocence, Mason’s Berinthia cut some sparkling wit and vivacious expressions, deepened by a slight tarnish of the world-weary. When carried off to bed by Loveless, her tiny shout of help was a great comedic moment, intensified by heads peeping from the wings, enjoying the spectacle as much as the audience. Walker’s Loveless seemed slightly strained in his acting: the seducer, after all, has to appear comfortable in his role of libertine. Nevertheless, his spontaneous duel with Foppington was brilliant fun.

This production was gorgeous to look at and to hear. Wonderful period costumes were complemented by music originally composed by student Jonathan Williams, played by an orchestra hidden in the wings. Still, no amplification could have been used to hide the creaking of the curtain, and the Howard Theatre might have secured some more impressive lighting. Minor flaws didn’t detract from show’s splendour, but for all of the glamour of the theatre's opening, there remained the feeling that in some minor aspects, it's still twitching its limbs.

Amidst outrageous acting that was never over the top, a sparkling script delivered to perfection, and the most impressive wardrobe you're likely to witness in Cambridge, technical gripes seem rather irrelevant. The Relapse really is a tour de force; the next production to hit the Howard walks in an outstanding shadow.