STRIPPED down and simplified, Jo Clifford's version of Leo Tolstoy's epic love story is accessible to all; adopting a theatre-in-the-round staging. Designer Joanna Scotcher's stark set complements using two white table-clothed trolleys as the sole props throughout most of the production.

Choir music opens as solemn characters holding lit candles enter the stage, introducing the story's central theme of infidelity through Dolly's (Claire Brown) admittance her husband, Oblonsky (Ryan Early) defiled their marriage vows with their children's governess.

Lavish ball dresses are the play's only noticeable costume change, symbolising Russia's high society and setting into motion the story's pivotal moment when the titular character meets her downfall. While Count Vronsky (Robert Gilbert) dances with her sister-in-law, Katy (Gillian Saker), Anna 's entrance steals his affection and momentarily gives Levin (John Cummins) hope that Katy will agree to be his wife.

Contentedly married Anna's life is upturned when she trades safety for passion and flouts society's laws. Scotcher's Anna lacks the sweeping dresses of her contemporaries, instead wearing plain black, marked as an outcast and subversive. Through the scandalous actions of Anna and the equally destructive relationships around her, Tolstoy and Clifford explore the death of the upper classes, duty of the individual, the power of religion, life cycles and regeneration.

Despite the play's intensity, there are moments of light relief courtesy of Karenin's (Jonathan Keeble) detached ruminations about his marriage: “ I will speak [to Anna about our marriage]under three headings: religious, civil and family”. Director, Ellen McDougall's intertwining of smug mini character monologues is equally amusingly played, flitting from one subject to a completely unrelated one. Characters outwardly share their intentions, unaware of the presence of the other while some prompt a snigger through slightly bizarre reactions.

Scotcher's trolleys transform into train carriages, legitimised by narration (“I'm on a train going to Moscow”). Two white floor panels illuminate from below and can be pulled up like trap doors to create a steeplechase racecourse as Karenin narrates. The dirt of the “track” doubles up as Levin's farm soil while also symbolising growth and birth.

Tom Gibbons' sound adds gravity to proceedings through tense instrumentals accompanying the action throughout. When his soundtrack includes lyrics, they are carefully selected to reflect character mood and situation: “Sometimes I feel like a lost cause.” Contemporary and traditional ballroom music mix in an interestingly choreographed dance sequence between Anna and Vronsky while minor characters look on, clearly emphasising the profound impact of their meet and anticipating the heartache.

Through interspersed character stories, Clifford ensures Anna's conduct mirrors her brothers, highlighting the sexual inequality of the time. Structure is used cleverly time and again throughout this production: Katy's wedding is marred by the cheating husband and wife standing either side of her wedding train while the play's climax is twofold in both child birth and mental deterioration. The circular ending returns to the train station, beautifully contrasting death and birth while almost anti-climactically concluding with the final both simple and thought-provoking line: “We feed the baby. What else if there to do?”

Remorse, scandal, jealousy, resentment... Clifford's poetic script has real depth, producing mesmerising raw performances from a versatile cast playing multiple parts. The modern Karenina remains universal in its concerns, appealing to our desire to conform and find our place in society yet remain distinct.

Anna Karenina shows at The Courtyard Theatre until June 13.

by Leo Owen