Mike Bartlett's contemporary version of one of the most unforgiving tragedies of all time is a curious beast.

On the one hand, this suburban English redux taps into tragically familiar stories of modern-day infanticide. On the other, gallows humour is at play which becomes a form of self-protection, as Rachael Stirling strides through her red-brick des res with the mono-maniacal fury of the original woman scorned.

Stirling's Medea is a flame-haired posh girl on a new-build estate who saved upwardly mobile Jason from drowning. Unable to deal with Medea's bolshie ways any longer, Jason has left her for a younger and, as Jason admits, "nicer" model, while Medea is left with only her traumatised little boy and impending homelessness to deal with.

While no-one would blame Medea for what she does after being treated so shabbily, her busy-body gal pals and a tongue-tied brickie looking on imploringly are only likely to make her madder. Especially when soundtracked by a swell of strings so sweeping as to resemble something out of The 39 Steps.

Such imbalances may jar, but they also illustrate just how out of whack Medea is in Bartlett's own production for Headlong, in association with the Citizens and Watford Palace. Stirling is a force of nature as she spars with Adam Levy's Jason, but other characters remain seemingly indifferent. Medea and Jason may tear lust-driven emotional chunks out of each other, but there's a sense that everyone else onstage is too disconnected to care in a TV-style reworking which only serves to make Stirling's Medea appear even more powerful.