Strindberg's Miss Julie is one of those classics that distils the most potent human vices into one heady concoction. When the misplaced lust of a count's daughter meets with the unbridled ambition of Daddy's footman, brittle class structures come crashing down around their ears with terrible consequences. Director Vladislavs Nastavshevs chooses to illustrate this through simple but elegant production design. Unfortunately this distracts him from the actual performance.

The downstairs theatre at Belvoir Street really is the ideal location for an upstairs/downstairs drama, as it doesn't need much tweaking to be transformed into the kitchen of a noble estate. The set design is simple, comprised as it is of a single wooden beam suspended at head height from the centre of the ceiling. It serves as a shelving unit, but it is so delicately balanced that the removal or addition of the smallest object causes it to tip dangerously. It also pivots with the movement of the actors around the stage. You have to hand it to Nastavshevs and designer Alice Morgan. It is a simple but powerful effect that illustrates the precariousness of the situation the characters find themselves in. Other devices, such as the interplay of light and shadow surrounding a bird cage, add to the claustrophobic atmosphere.

It's a shame that the same cannot be said for some of the acting. It's a brave man that states in his Director's Notes that a wooden beam is a character in the play. This could invite all sorts of unkind comparisons and comments about "wooden acting". Nastavshevs seems to have been so absorbed in symbolism and set design that he forgot to worry about what the flesh-and-blood actors should be doing – or maybe he told the lead to deliberately downplay the role. I don't know how else to explain Katie Fitchett's performance as Miss Julie. For the first five or ten minutes the main topic of conversation between footman Jean (Laurence Breuls) and cook Christine (Julie Moore) is their mistress and how crazy she is. Miss Julie's wild. Miss Julie's tempestuous. Miss Julie is a teensy little bit on the crazy side!

When the wild and crazy Miss Julie finally appears, she is anything but. Fitchett seems to have been told to deliver her lines in a monotone. There is very little in the way of passion or animation in her performance. It is frankly unbelievable that she could muster up the energy to rebel by passing the sherry in the wrong direction at the dinner table, let alone wantonly shag Daddy's footman. Perhaps the aim is to depict the ennui that the dissolute upper classes supposedly fall into, but just doesn't fit in with the actions and confusions of the character.

Breuls and Moore, although they also at times seem to be a little sleepy, deliver most of their lines with force, passion or subtlety as required. They are occasionally a little distracted with getting the angle of the beam just right, but I think that will pass as the season progresses. Breuls gives a particularly brutal performance at times, and Moore is all upright sensibleness and righteous anger.

This production of Miss Julie, framed as it is in an innovative set design, should have been gripping. It's a shame it falls so flat. But the wooden beam really is very good.