The Guilty at the Donmar sits somewhere between immersive theatre and watching an episode of a real crime drama on TV. It absolutely keeps you captivated for the very brief 60 minutes over which it plays out. Russell Tovey is compelling throughout, carrying the emotion and grounding the escalating tension in something believable. The set also felt convincing, despite my never quite understanding why the computers were covered in plastic dust sheets. I have no idea whether a 911 call room actually feels like this, but nothing on stage ever gave me reason to doubt it.

It is a very unique experience. It is also not a piece that stays with you.

I left the theatre and walked home along the Thames with my mind already occupied by other thoughts before I had even reached the South Bank. For all the tension it generates in the moment, there is surprisingly little to think about once it is over.

The following evening I rewatched the Jake Gyllenhaal remake of the 2018 Danish film Den Skyldige. It is in fact also quite short, with a run time of just 90 minutes. I was struck by just how little had changed in the move from screen to stage. This is not a case of stripping the story back or finding a new angle on the material. Beyond losing some of the cinematography and trimming a few conversations, it is essentially the same thing.

Which is why the Donmar’s claim that The Guilty is by Chloë Moss feels overstated. She may have adapted the movie script, but it really is tinkering around the edges. This is less a reimagining than a transfer from one medium to another.

I enjoyed myself, but had I remembered more of the film it would inevitably have spoiled the tension. And that perhaps gets to the heart of my reservations. The production is undeniably effective, but I never found myself convinced that it was necessary. Whilst I certainly do not regret going, this is one of the very few occasions when I have left a theatre feeling that I could have done without.