At the Donmar Warehouse, I have always found my way into the parallel reality that theatre should create. With Phillipa Lloyd’s new production of Julius Caesar, one can simultaneously find oneself in not one, but two different realities.

There was no real need to set an all-female production of Julius Caesar in a women’s jail. The staging seems to be an excuse for the all-female cast when a justification is entirely unnescessary. These women play men as well as any man can play a woman.

That said, the jail scenario is a fresh approach and works well, especially under Lloyd’s precise direction. The prisoners roam the halls in stark, simple costumes, play-acting at Julius Caesar and guards interrupt when the rowdiness becomes intolerable. These interruptions were very frustrating to the audience, who could, however, also feel the frustration of the women whose only pastime had been rudely broken off. It creates a dual level of complicity with the characters; our sympathies are not only with Shakespeare’s characters, but also with the prisoners who are trying to take part in a form of escapism, in the same way that we, the audience, are.

The acting was faultless and every word was spoken with clarity and with individual meaning. The characters in Julius Caesar all search for freedom from tyrannical rule; even Caesar is under the tyranny of fear. This struggle was evoked with lucidity by the very strong cast.

Frances Barber is a sensual, attractive Caesar. The vulgarity she assumes when in the role has an element of repulsiveness, which plays off very well against the nobility displayed by Harriet Walter’s Brutus. Walter’s Brutus is a man of restrained emotion, but one who suffers deeply for his actions. Clare Dunne plays Brutus’ wife, Portia, with a touching combination of frailty and strength. She also appears as the brutal, murderous avenger Octavius Caesar, and is equally at ease in both roles. Finally, Jenny Jules is a powerful Cassius, compelling as the instigator of Caesar’s murder.