I am always fascinated that nowadays anything and everything is being turned into a musical. Even Silence of the Lambs, apparently. Conversely, I feel strongly that not everything should be adapted for the stage, so I was somewhat sceptical about booking this show. But having fallen in love with Denise Gough’s performance in People, places and things, I decided to take a chance. In fact, I had high hopes for High Noon. Unfortunately, the 1952 classic Western, that relies heavily on close-ups and silence for tension, should have been left well enough alone on the silver screen, not transferred onto the wooden‑slat stage.

Even though it is recognised as an allegory of McCarthyism — setting the cowardice of the many against the courage of the few, a theme once again popular with many drawing parallels to Trump — this strange endeavour fails to convey any depth or spark any deeper thought.

Visually, it is quite theatrical: the massive clock hanging in the centre counting down the time; the dusty desert‑town feel; the period costumes, which are a joy to take in; and the flexibility of the stage with its deft scene changes. I loved the conjuring of the train.

But it is not really a play. It is a sequence of very short scenes, one after another, flashing by as we hurtle towards High Noon. Lines are delivered, scenery is changed, then a train arrives, there is some shooting, and then it is done. It felt as though I were watching a high‑school production of Hamlet that had been brutally cut to fit into sixty minutes. The drama teacher seemed to have called for a full costume run‑through simply to check everyone knew their lines, long before anyone had begun to think about interpretation.

It all feels a bit flat and leaves no time to explore any of the themes — and there are plenty of them to explore. But that does not seem to be the play’s objective. Instead, time is taken up by some random singing. Not quite a musical, thank goodness, but while it works in some moments, in most it is simply bizarre. For example, the singing of Springsteen’s “I’m on Fire”: I’m not suggesting Gough didn’t perform it well, but it’s a song about lust and longing — not exactly themes prominent in this story. A freight train runnin’ through the middle of my head may be the most pertinent line.

It’s a shame, because beneath the dust and songs lies a story that deserved far more time than this production was willing to give it.