In the summer of 1931, a trial began in a Berlin courtroom.

In the dock were two men, members of the so-called Sturmabteilung, or SA – the armed yob paramilitaries of the fast-rising Nazi party – who had taken to terrorising Berlin. The previous November, with the violence for which they were known, they and a number of fellow brownshirts had attacked a dancehall known as a meeting place for left-wing workers, killing three and injuring dozens.

Against the backdrop of Germany’s economic collapse and political disarray, the case was a long time coming to court. But when it did, it became more than simply the trial of two thugs, as one man seized the opportunity and launched what amounted to a battle to save the idea of democracy in his country.

The man’s name was Hans Litten, a brilliant young lawyer with a track record of representing opponents of the Nazis. His plan was both audacious and simple. He subpoenaed Adolf Hitler himself to appear in court. A few months earlier, in another trial, seeking to present himself as a conventional politician, the Nazi leader had publicly renounced political violence, allowing his more respectable supporters to pretend he meant it.

Litten, arguing the Nazis continued to employ brute force and terror – and not only knew about the dancehall attack, but ordered it – sought to expose Hitler’s lie. More than this: he sought to expose Hitler, cutting him out of the heroic frame he liked to present himself in, removing his opportunity for making speeches, highlighting how often he contradicted himself, and forcing him to answer questions about what he actually believed in – and what he was prepared to do to achieve it. In the end, he cross-examined the increasingly furious Fuhrer for three hours in court.

Starring Ed Stoppard as Litten and Ian Hart as Hitler, writer Mark Hayhurst’s drama on the case is modest in scope and budget. There’s no real sense conveyed of the chaos and fear abroad in Berlin, and the history is a little too sketchily sketched. All the same, he makes the ideas in play crystal clear, and once they get going, the courtroom scenes, drawn from actual transcripts, crackle until the intimate, unashamedly play-like atmosphere comes into its own.

It’s not TV for the ages but, with a cast including Bill Paterson and Anton Lesser, it’s a valuable drama and throws light on a fascinating moment, one that could have been a turning point in the 20th century – and perhaps was. Hitler survived the experience, of course, but he was rattled by it. Certainly, he never forgot Hans Litten. After the case, he forbade any mention of his name in his presence. In 1933, the lawyer was among the first rounded up for the camps. He never lived to see the war.