As a lyricist, Ian Dury had few equals in the 20th century

The National Theatre’s programme of livestreamed shows continues with the Donmar’s 2014 production of Coriolanus

starring Tom Hiddleston. The play is not a favourite. The story concerns a victorious Roman general who accepts the role of consul but when his political career falters he takes revenge by befriending his defeated enemy, Aufidius, and marching on his own city. There’s too much bitterness and aggression here, and no romantic sentiment at all. The only significant male/female relationship is between the great conqueror and his preening, pushy mother, Volumnia, who boasts about her son’s triumphs as if they were scouting badges or gold stars won for laying out the nature table. Coriolanus is an unsatisfactory tragic hero. He’s sulky, arrogant and emotionally limited. When he’s outmanoeuvred in the Senate he denounces politics as cant and betrays his homeland by siding with his former enemies. And he can never shake off his self-regard, even when his generalship is being praised by his fellow Romans. ‘I have some wounds upon me,’ he brags, ‘and they smart to hear themselves remembered.’

Hiddleston is riveting. Athletically built, physically agile, he can deliver real heft to lines like ‘brave death outweighs bad life’. He rallies his troops with savage put-downs. ‘You souls of geese that bear the shapes of men.’ Sprinting into battle he dares his foes to ‘stain all your edges on me’. Not many Shakespearean actors look tasty enough to win a fight in a pub car park. Hiddleston does. And in Coriolanus’s quieter moments he has a soft, warm, beguiling voice. Is he world class, though? An Olivier or a Gielgud? Not quite.

Director Josie Rourke uses a dark, broody palette and creates a fast-paced version that looks like a low-budget movie set in a warehouse.