There is a gap between how Kristin Scott Thomas's Electra looks and sounds. Visually, I cannot remember a more haunted figure on the stage. The face is defined by dagger-sharp shadows cast by seemingly starved cheeks. The staring eyes are sunken, ringed red by grief for her murdered father Agamemnon and salted by the sight of her mother Clytemnestra living with his murderer Aegisthus.

But the voice and delivery evoke little of the despair demanded by Sophocles. And although the action is set in the shadow of the towering entrance to her home, the House of Atreus (design Mark Thompson), Scott Thomas's sardonic asides and ironic riffs - which admittedly are encouraged by Frank McGuinness's informal translation - made me think of somewhere much more suburban. And also of domestic concerns such as divorce or infidelity - the kind of strife that features in the Pinter plays that she has appeared in. Wonderful though they are, there is not much call to depict revenge as an eternal cycle of destruction.

Where Ian Rickson's underpowered production finally moves, the emotions are with the reconciliation between Electra and her brother Orestes (Jack Lowden). It's a moment that brings you up surprisingly short in the way that reunions of separated siblings nearly always do, though usually in Shakespeare. And much as I admire Scott Thomas as an actor, she's more powerful when her characters are called upon to suppress emotion rather than express it.