A precocious Infant Phenomenon who should be sentenced to life imprisonment in a

A precocious Infant Phenomenon who should be sentenced to life imprisonment in a high chair, this Khlestakov seems to have no centre of self, only a depraved dressing up box of preening man-of-the-world "turns" and what you might call a default mode to which he occasionally lapses as a self pitying `ickle boy.Hollander puts on a bravura display that makes Rik Mayall look like the last word in bashful restraint. But, as with Ian McDiarmid's shady, self righteousus Provost, who rarely goes lower than operatic apoplexy, there's no room for development or a true comic sense of how this peculiar situation changes people. Instead of a gradually building crescendo to the scene where Khlestakov gets higher and higher on drink and bombast, you get oddball and manic from the word go. Quite aside from the fact that the Provost's wife and daughter would have to be certifiable to fancy this clockwork creep, the web of compromised relationships in the town, before the mistake is made, is never properly fleshed out, as, say, it was in the wonderfully funny Dubbeljoint production. Set in a 19th century Ireland, still under British rule, it captured the tension of men of divided loyalties for whom Partition would be a decidedly mixed blessing.By comparison, this Government Inspector is mirthless, socially textureless and a waste of the considerable abilities of everyone concerned.. The walk-up can't have been huge at the Bloomsbury Theatre on a freezing cold night in the Christmas Party season, but the stalls were almost full with a keen, often knowledgeable crowd. Not that the audience was wall- to-wall aficionados: there's a first time for everything and a small but highly irritating contingent, clearly unfamiliar with the mozarabic singing style exemplified by Joaquin Escudero and Sebastian Roman, hooted with incredulous laughter whenever a cantaor struck up a howling lament.

Cuentos Flamenco is a small, unpretentious outfit composed of two dancers, two singers, two guitarists and one percussionist - although in flamenco everyone's a percussionist. The dancers, and co-founders of the company, are Talia Cohen and Alejandro Grandos. Flamenco has an innate grandeur and simplicity that enables it to transform the plainest staging into strong theatre. The skills of lighting designer Chris Clay and sound engineer Amos Christie played a large part in the evening's success. It is hard to predict what the well-dressed bailaor will be wearing these days. Once upon a time you could put money on armpit-hugging strides, a tight waistcoat and a big girl's blouse. But a dance with its roots in one of the most stylish countries in Europe was unlikely to stick with so dated a look, and a male flamenco dancer can turn up in anything from a pair of designer jeans to an ankle length skirt. Grandos, in his first appearance, had opted for a pale grey lounge suit and loose apricot shirt.

This rather untheatrical choice of costume reminds us why the old black togs became so popular: they enhanced and exaggerated the sinuous lines of the dance. When the bailaor strikes his pose, arms raised like a matador about to strike, we want to see the emphatic curve of the spine, the long taut line of the thighs, the whole body tense as a drawn bow - not the billowing folds of shirt over waistband. By the farruca Grandos was back in black.Talia Cohen is more traditionally dressed in various ruffled frocks and demonstrates all the bad-tempered virtuosity so essential to a solea. Cohen hitches up her skirts with a spasm of crabby impatience as if her bottom were itching to dance and shake the heavy dust from her frills. Between them the two dancers created a salty and honest performance on a pleasingly intimate scale.No doubt somewhere in some godforsaken hotel bar in Torremolinos there is such a thing as lousy flamenco but we do not on the whole tend to import it.

Although the artists and production of Fuego Flamenco may not be altogether Premier League, this group of pedigree performers is a welcome reminder that there is always a lot of entertainment to be had in the First Division.To 20 Dec 0171-388 8822. The cosy auditorium slopes down to a small yet serviceable stage where velvet curtains droop discreetly behind a flowing proscenium. Here, stage left, like a cross between President Poincare and Sir Joseph Porter, presides Master-of-Ceremonies, Dominic Le Foe, introducing Victorian music-hall while confusing hapless Americans with the joke that within these walls, the world is trembling on the verge of 1898. Tonight at the Players' Theatre, however, things are different. Le Foe presents songs and carols in time-honoured Players' manner. But tonight, they are also performing their annual panto, Babes In The Wood. Compared with Spice World this is hardly glittering showbiz. Yet like the company itself, tucked away in The Arches, Villiers Street, this production is among the capital's best kept theatrical secrets.

As the home of music- hall, pantomime and melodrama, the Players' has a lineage that extends to the song-and-supper clubs beloved of Thackeray and Gilbert. Since 1936, and in various locations, the troupe has commanded talents such as Peter Ustinov and Rex Whistler, and supporters including the Churchills and Bonham-Carters to continue the tradition. Saved from hard times by enlightened sponsorship from Marks & Spencer and Young's Brewery, the club preserves its legacy for future generations. One joy for lovers of English fare is the bar and restaurant, where in line with the Players' flavour of entertainment, roast beef is served - off the bone, naturally.There's a stir, and in the form of pianist Andrew Faulkner the full orchestra arrives Mr Faulkner is an artist who projects to the stalls He makes effects His playing is worthy of the Wigmore Hall. Then they're off the into this Scottish version of the story, with be-kilted Michelle Grant and Jennifer Morton as the eponymous infants ("very dread-full children indeed"), Clifton Todd and Martyn Harrison as the villains, Jo Napthine as the Queen of the Fairies ("the original feathered friend") and Robert Meadwell as Sir Rowland Macassar, whose name sparks off a Christmas cracker- full of excruciating puns.By a whisker, however, the star is Eleanor McCready, the evil Lady Beth, bearing on her very broad shoulders a heap of negative feminine stereotypes.