The social-cipher sons (plumber, tailor, geeky clerk) provide some competent comedy. Domenico eventually achieves a measure of selflessness and grace.But Hall's faltering farce doesn't serve the cast well Neither, despite the best intentions, does Judi Dench. Naturally - particularly amid such Parma-hamming - the audience only has eyes for her. We will her to speak - this comes to be a recurrent wish - and it's a relief when at last she asks, "Have you finished?"The problem? had feigned illness, played a good death-bed scene. But, as the pair burst upon the stage - Judi Dench with straggly hair spilling down the back of a white nightdress, Michael Pennington with Lothario moustache and dapper suit - all is not well.

Domenico is raging.Pennington painstakingly executes this with some rapid gesticulating, frantic pacing and forehead-slapping Dench, motionless, fixes him with a steely stare. The indigo walls of the drawing-room evoke a Mediterranean makeover on Changing Rooms; but the hot-blooded passions of the story aren't quite as easily brushed over., a former prostitute from the slums, has been Domenico's mistress for 25 years. A wife in all but name, she has just achieved what she rightfully deserved: marriage. His work brims with energy and humour, the colour and culture of urban Italy exuding from the rich, earthy Neapolitan dialect. Not that you'd guess this from Peter Hall's production of , which opens the autumn rep season at the Piccadilly. Timberlake Wertenbaker's new translation sensibly eschews Italianese or a British regional idiom But the distinct sense of place has disappeared. Deep down, they want to be Oprah Winfrey, who almost - almost - vindicates the genre.

She is the only talk show presenter who actually listens to her guests. Sarah, Roseanne and the rest don't seem to want to learn a thing It's a shame, because they have a lot to learn.. Filumena Piccadilly, WC2 EDUARDO DE FILIPPO was Italy's most popular post-war playwright. In one episode I counted seven sluts, three ho's, two dogs, two bitches and ten words which were bleeped out. "He's a dog! But I love him!" hollered one sack of trailer-park trash Jerry frowned "Why don't you get an Irish Setter?" he enquired. There are rumours that Jerry's woeful guests are actually just actors. I hope the rumours are true.A few talk shows do without sobbing-and-fighting.