Mother Courage and her Children

'Be careful what you wish for' could be said to be the moral of Brecht's parable Mother Courage - the story of a resourceful single mother who relies on a permanent state of war for the survival of her business, but ends up losing her three children as a result of her own actions during the non-stop conflict.

Written around the outbreak of the Second World War and set in the 17th century, the story's central challenge is a timeless one: What price survival?

In this benchtours production of David Hare's translation (a follow-up to the company's 2002 Caucasian Chalk Circle), a procession of narrators provide regular updates of the time and place, but the soldiers come from a variety different periods, both historical and contemporary.

If this is a slightly heavy-handed way of pointing out the continuing relevance of the central dilemma, then the use of two subs benches on which the actors perch between appearances 'on stage' seems like a rather too subtle attempt by director Peter Clerke's to remind the audience, as was Brecht's mission, that it's only a play. A rack of costumes is also visible but remains untouched throughout, and the business of loading and unloading a cart laden with props is frustratingly time-consuming.

Catherine Gillard's inexhaustible Mother Courage is impossible to warm to, as she should be, while each of her children is engagingly played. Cerrie Burnell's dumb Kattrin is particularly affecting and David Walshe's Irish accent brings an extra comic twist to his half-Swiss character.

Awkward musical interludes slow the pace of the production - which clocks in at three hours - and are endured rather than enjoyed. This may, of course, be the point - when Steve Kettley's pots and pans percussion becomes truly infuriating, he's ringing the bells of peace.